


(Not A) Kid's Show

by TwinklingCupcake



Series: Kid Protag AU [3]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bendy Has Parental Feelings, Body Horror, Character Death, Familial Feelings in General, Gen, Heroic Sacrifice, Illustration, Kid in Peril, Parent-Child Relationship, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-10-25 21:26:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10772742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinklingCupcake/pseuds/TwinklingCupcake
Summary: The Ink Machine was turned on. Another Bendy was released. Strange things had happened in the studio, and were still happening since the Machine was fixed. They had to survive long enough to reach the exit.





	1. Respite

For a long time, Bendy just sat there on the floor beside the child. His hand had fallen from her head ages ago, instead resting on his bent knee. He just. Sat there. In silence. Thinking. About nothing at all.

 

The only sound was Mary's – Henry's little niece, who'da thunk it? - quiet little snores. No more pounding on the door, no more slithering crawling, it was just a child sleeping.

 

It kept pulling his thoughts back to her, back to their current predicament. What would he have done, he wondered, if Henry had come here instead? Persuade him to help him get out of the studio? Wished revenge on Joey? (He still couldn't remember why he was so furious at the thought of that man...He seemed to have one giant fuzzy hole in his memory.) Would he have wanted to keep Henry here with him, catch up on old times?

 

He didn't know and he couldn't say. He did know what he had to do with Mary, though. She was only a child, a little girl who should never have come here to begin with. This was his fault, he thought. If he'd turned her away as soon as he saw she was just a kid, then this wouldn't have happened. If he'd taken one look at her and said 'This is no place for children, run on home,' they wouldn't be down here hiding from a monster version of himself.

 

But he hadn't. He'd asked her to help fix the machine. Walked her through the process, told her what to do. To save Boris.

And then everything had gone pear-shaped.

 

All he wanted right now was to get her out of here. All he wanted was to see her home.

 

He just hoped her uncle wouldn't be too angry about the bump on her head. He was mad enough at _himself_ about that.

 

( _“Good night, little lamb...Ma-ry had a lit-tle lamb, lit-tle lamb, lit-tle lamb....”_

He used to _enjoy_ that rhyme, damn it.

 

Damn Sammy. He never did like the guy.)

 

Bendy took a deep breath he wasn't fully sure he needed, to stable his nerves. Easy now, calm. There was a kid here.

 

And...

 

“I know you're here,” he called out, quiet so as not to wake Mary. “Come on, buddy, don't you wanna say hi to an old friend?”

 

Pause.

 

Then slow, light footsteps, and Boris rounded the corner, keeping a reasonable distance away from Bendy. He seemed to regard him with curiosity, and...a bit of fear.

 

Bendy was unfazed. It didn't matter how Boris looked at him. He was _alive._ “Hey, bud,” he said, a tired smile on his face. “I guess the Ink Machine worked out then?”

 

Boris didn't respond. Not to that, anyway. His black eyes moved to look behind Bendy, at Mary's sleeping form. “Izzat Henry's girl?” he asked.

 

“Nah. His niece. She's his little sister's kid.” Bendy looked back at her, briefly rubbing her head affectionately. “Henry got a letter, tellin' him to come. But Mary came instead.” He looked back to Boris, noting the way he'd gone tense and stepped back when he mentioned the letter. “We saw ya strapped up...she thought the Ink Machine'd fix ya. Well, she thought we could fix ya, but I thought of the Ink Machine.”

 

“Bendy...” Boris cast his gaze around the room, tapping his gloved fingertips together. “Bendy, ol' pal--”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Ya shouldn'ta turned on the machine.”

 

Bendy sat up straighter, a frown on his face. “What? What do you mean I shouldn't – Boris, we saved your _life!”_

 

“And I'm grateful to ya, pal, I really am, but – But, Bendy, you _know_ how dangerous it was, is! This was an _awful_ idea, you shoulda just—”

 

“Just what, _left_ you like that?!” Bendy's voice rose in pitch at the end, his hand flew into the air angrily. Mary stirred behind him, and he quickly lowered his voice to a harsh whisper again. “Boris, I hate that piece o' junk as much as you do, but it was the _only_ way to save you.”

 

“I know that,” Boris muttered, his own voice low to match Bendy's. “But you don't seem to realize...y'don't know... I just can't believe you would go _near_ that machine again. After what Joey did to you...”

 

What did _that_ have to do with it? What did the machine have to do with the way Joey started treating them, ran the place? But Bendy was silent. So was Boris.

 

Neither spoke, just staring at each other. There were a lot of emotions running around in their chests, but not all of them compatible, and it resulted in very blank expressions. There was relief, of course, at seeing their friend alive and well. Gratitude for being alive – both for very different reasons. Confusion. Fear. Regret. Anger. Caution.

 

If they had enough time, they could probably have sat and hashed all of those feelings out. Talking through everything.

 

But they didn't have that much time. Once Mary woke up – and Bendy wasn't going to let her sleep the entire night away, the sooner they got moving again the better – they'd be on the move. Get to the exit, get out of here. Hopefully forever.

 

“Come with us.”

 

“Wha?” Boris stared.

 

Bendy grinned his trademark smile, holding one hand out. “Come with us to the exit, silly! When I get Mary outta here, I bet she'll take us with her! She can take us to Henry, we can live with him or something! Or...or maybe we can make him draw us again, everything can the way it used to be. Better, even! Just...” His grin slowly faded, replaced by a worried expression. “Just come with us...please?”

 

Boris stood there. He said nothing.

 

He looked at the barricaded door.

 

Then at Mary, still fast asleep.

 

He took note of the wrench that lay just outside of the blanket Bendy had thrown over her. It was splattered with ink.

 

He looked at Bendy.

 

“I'd _like_ to, pal, but--”

 

“But?”

 

“Not now.” Boris shook his head. “Not with-- not with _that_ out there.”

 

The way he'd said 'that' made Bendy's chest feel hot. Okay, he hated the monstrous inky thing outside too, but...but it looked like _him._ It was _weird_ to hear someone else refer to it with such fear and anxiety – only he was allowed to do that! And that was because _he was Bendy, not that thing. He made people smile, he made them happy, that thing just wanted to hurt them, they were nothing alike!_

 

“I'll be _much_ safer down here,” Boris finished. “So would you two!”

 

“Boris--”

 

“He'll kill us if he finds us, Bend' ol' pal...He won't like that I'm walking around again, he won't like that _you_ are...It's safer if we all stay here. And I'd feel a lot better knowin' you're safe, too--”

 

“Boris. Mary _can't_ stay down here,” Bendy urged. “She's not a cartoon, she's a _little girl._ You remember the crew, right? They needed food, sleep, water, all that jazz! Mary needs more than they did, because she's a kid, she – she's _human,_ Boris, if she stayed down here she'd just die eventually. And that door's not going to hold forever, either – one day, that thing would get in!”

 

More silence.

 

“Then I s'pose...I s'pose you'll have to hurry before it does.” Boris's tone sounded defeated. As if he knew it was useless to argue.

 

They both did, really. Neither of them would budge on their stands.

 

“I suppose so, then,” Bendy said, folding his arms over his chest.

 

“You'll come back to see me after, right?” Boris sounded hopeful. “After Mary gets home?”

 

“Aw, Boris, you _know_ I will! Heck, I'll do ya one better and figure out what's up with that _ink thing_ and fix it!”

 

How he was going to do that, he had no idea. And honestly it took second priority at the moment. But he had to say _something._

 

It was worth it, besides, for the brilliant smile on Boris's face.

 

“Thanks, pal,” Boris said, sticking his own hand out for a shake.

 

As the two gripped hands, Boris's gaze shifted back to Mary. “And can ya tell her...after you get her to the exit...tell her to tell Henry I said hi?”

 

Bendy's chest tightened painfully, as did his throat. “'course I will...'course I will.”

 

 


	2. Storyboards

 

“Mary? Mary, sweetheart, you've gotta wake up now...”

 

Mary groaned and squeezed her eyes shut even tighter. She curled into herself, tugging the thin blanket over her head. “Fi' m'nutes...” she grumbled.

 

...though come to think it, was her bed always this hard? Her blanket always this thin? No, no, wait, she was at Uncle Henry's. Except nooo, Uncle Henry had a hide-away bed in his couch that he pulled out come bedtime, and it wasn't as hard as this. This felt more like--

 

Someone chuckled above her, then shook her again. “Mary, we gotta _move._ You have to wake up.”

 

That wasn't Uncle Henry...They sounded familiar though, and Mary's first thought was that she was being awoken by the sound of the TV.

That was Bendy's voice, wasn't it? Uncle Henry was playing some Bendy cartoons for her this mo--

 

Wait.

 

Mary's eyes opened and she sat up, the blanket falling down to the floor.

 

No living room. No hide-away bed. No TV playing cartoons. No Uncle Henry.

 

Instead it was a dimly-lit room with a wooden floor, which she was asleep on. And the real Bendy right in front of her.

 

And then the events prior to this came flowing back. None of it was a dream.

 

Something must have shown on her face because Bendy's smile wavered a bit. “Aw, sweetheart, I know, I know,” he muttered. “But it's okay – you got me here, remember! C'mon, do I have to show you why I don't have a neck again?” he added in a slight teasing tone. But as he said it, his hands rose to either side of his head.

 

He meant it; he'd re-do the whole head-basketball routine again if he had to.

 

But Mary just shook her head, wiping at her nose. “No. No, 'm okay...”

 

“Let me check your head again, real quick-like.”

 

Mary ducked her head as Bendy came around to look. She winced slightly as he poked at the spot where Sammy had hit her – it didn't hurt much _anymore,_ only if it was touched. That was a good thing, right? Behind her, Bendy spoke: “There's purple now, so you've got a good bruise. But that's about it. You say somethin' if you feel light-headed or sick, okay?”

 

“Okay.” Mary slowly rose to her feet, grabbing her wrench as she did so. It was lucky that Bendy had found it, she couldn't help but think.

 

(Panicking and struggling to get loose from her bindings, while up ahead the speaker played that man's summon. An ink puddle shifted, and then Bendy – _her_ Bendy – was pulling himself out, the wrench in one hand, eyes wide with fear.

He'd found her wrench on the floor, and knew she was in trouble. He'd looked and seen inky footprints.)

 

Mary's grip on the wrench tightened. She wasn't going to lose this. If there were any more ink monsters, or creepy former employees, she'd _need_ it.

 

Wouldn't Uncle Henry laugh, knowing she might be clubbing Mr Drew himself with this thing?

 

“Okay. I'm ready – huh?” Her attention was briefly torn away by the rows of Bendy dolls in front of her.

 

“Squeeze one,” Bendy said as she hurried over, eyes widening in delight despite the situation. “They squeak!”

 

“Really?” Mary plucked one off the shelf and gave it an experimental squeeze.

 

_Squee – eee!_

 

Mary'd seen a doll like this before. She'd been five, visiting her uncle for the summer, and he'd seen her watching his Bendy cartoons. “Do you want to see more?” he'd asked, and shown her some of the collectibles he had. A vinyl record. Shirts. A cel he'd managed to nick from the studio. And the doll.

She'd wanted it, but he'd patiently explained to her that this was _his_ doll and he was rather attached to it, sorry.

 

Her mom had been pretty mad when she'd told her about it later. Mary had overheard them arguing about it – her mom saying it was just a doll, he should have given it to her, her uncle saying it was one of the few decent things he had left from those days and besides, she might not appreciate it.

 

She'd never said so, but she _really_ wanted a Bendy doll, even now.

 

So she pocketed it, a broad grin on her face that only got bigger when she heard Bendy snicker behind her. It wasn't stealing if nobody was working here, right?

 

“What'd ya need the doll for, kiddo?” Bendy asked, clasping Mary's free hand and leading her to the other door on the opposite end of the room. “You've got the real one right here!”

 

“Yeah, but this one I can keep forever. Uncle Henry's gonna want _you,_ so I won't see you as much,” Mary said. “An' I always wanted this doll!”

 

The other door was atop a tall flight of stairs. Bendy began walking first, but halfway up he paused, looking beneath the banister and staring at something near the far corner. Mary glanced over, a puzzled frown on her face.

 

“Bendy? Whatcha lookin' at?”

 

“...nothin'. Well, somethin', but... Don't worry about it,” he muttered, resuming his climb. “I'll come back,” he said.

 

Mary stared, waiting for him to elaborate, but he said nothing.

 

As the two left the room, the door clicking shut behind them, a tall toon shuffled out of hiding, an anxious look on his face. His gaze was focused on part of the banister, where a splotch of wet black ink gleamed in the light.

 

* * *

 

 

There was paper _everywhere._

 

Mary stared slack-jawed as she and Bendy crept a few paces into the room. She'd never seen so much paper in all her life! It covered the walls in long rows, sometimes messy but sometimes in neat single-files; the floor was strewn with them; a few desks had several pieces haphazardly clipped together. Most of the paper was no good for drawing, unfortunately, as they were already covered with black and white pictures. Again, the pictures varied; some of them were clean and precise and perfect, like it was straight from the Bendy cartoon itself, while others were more sloppy and messy and barely a few circles stacked atop one another.

Mary ventured closer to one of the many many _many_ walls that had been built into the room. Upon closer inspection, a lot of the papers also had words written beneath them. Under the one at her direct eye-level, she could read _'Bendy: 'ey, how many luimps d'ya want, Boris?'_

 

“The storyboard room,” came Bendy's voice. He sounded both awed and proud, and when Mary looked he was standing straighter, with her hands planted on his hips. He looked around the room with a broad smile, bigger than his normal one. “How much d'you know about animation, kiddo?”

 

“Not a lot,” Mary admitted.

 

“Well, this is where your uncle and other folks decided what things would look like. Like when you have a book, and there's a picture to match the words, see?”

 

“Ohhhh! I get it!”

 

Bendy stepped closer to take her hand, and she let him. As he guided her down the long, narrow passage, Mary kept looking around at the papers – storyboards, right right. It was amazing; the difference in quality from paper to paper, being surrounded by Bendy and Boris, seeing something that her uncle might have worked on... She didn't know which drawings were his, but she guessed it might be the more detailed drawings. Her uncle always was a bit detail-oriented.

 

Their path was narrow, as the room had been converted into a huge mass of rooms – a bunch of cubicles and walls had been put up to show as many storyboards as possible, so it felt as if they were walking through a maze. There wasn't much room for the two of them to walk between two of the walls of paper, so their movements made the paper stir and flap, filling the air with the faint sound of rustling.

 

It was narrow, cramped, and the walls towered over the two of them like skyscrapers. Once in a while there would be a wider space – just a tiny, make-shift room with a desk, ink and paper, and some clear bottle that Bendy identified as acetone.

(“For when they made a mistake or needed thinner ink, ya see.”)

 

If it was this cramped for a little girl and a little toon, she couldn't imagine what it must have been like for a group of adults.

 

Bendy led her around a corner, and Mary saw a Bendy cutout propped up against one wall. Her hand squeezed Bendy's in fear.

 

“Don't worry,” he said, knowing what the problem was. “They won't hurt us.”

 

“Are they alive, too?” Mary asked, gripping her wrench tighter. “They keep poppin' up and--”

 

“You know,” Bendy interrupted, sounding thoughtful. “I really don't know.” His pace slowed as he began to lose himself in thought. “A little after the Ink Machine came, the cutouts started doin' this. Movin' around when we couldn't see, being in a different place than they were five minutes ago... A few people said they saw them peeking around corners at them, but when they looked nobody was there to move 'em.

But they'd never hurt anyone, and they never _did_ either. I think they're on our side, in their own way.”

 

“I found the wrench in front of one of 'em,” Mary said. “When you asked me to get you outta the pipe. It just dropped from nowhere.”

 

“Hmm...” Bendy frowned for a moment, then shook his head. “Like I said,” he said. “I think they're on our side. They won't hurt you.”

 

“M-hm.” Mary looked away from the cutout as they kept moving, and looked at the storyboards instead. The detailed and inked-in pictures were decreasing in number, with more rough-looking pictures instead. Some papers were even blank altogether.

 

“You know,” Bendy said again, interrupting her thoughts. “Your uncle Henry never liked the cutouts very much. Said he felt uneasy, like they were watching him all the time. I used to surprise him by moving a cutout into his room when he wasn't looking,” Bendy's tone sounded a bit wistful then, even as he laughed. But even the laugh sounded mostly joyless. “Oooh, he used to scream so loud and jump so _high..._ How is he?” His laughter was gone now, his tone serious. He pointedly avoided looking over his shoulder at Mary. “How's he been since he left?”

 

His tone made Mary feel bad for him. He really missed Uncle Henry, didn't he?

 

“He...he liked you a lot, Bendy,” she said, rather than answer his question. “He's got some stuff from the studio – he stole a cel from here, one with you on it!”

 

“...he did?” Bendy whispered, sounding...hopeful.

 

“Uh-huh.” Mary nodded brightly. “And he's got a doll of you, and a record with one of your songs on it, and he has all your cartoons...He doesn't like to talk about when he worked here, but he _always_ likes to talk about you and Boris and Alice!”

 

Alice...where _was_ Alice? Mary glanced around the narrow hall again, as if expecting Alice to appear. But there was nothing but rows upon rows of blank paper.

 

She hoped Alice hadn't met the same fate as Boris.

 

“He liked you a lot. He really misses you, I think.”

 

_drip_

 

Mary leaned sideways to try and see Bendy's face. Was he crying?

 

_Drip drip_

 

No. No tears, no ink. He looked a little sad, but he was smiling at the same time.

 

But no tears.

 

“I'm glad to hear that, kiddo,” he said at last, looking up at her. “Haha – Henry'll be real glad to see me again, huh?”

 

“You bet he will, Bendy!” Mary laughed.

 

_Drip...drip..._

 

_flappa...crsh..._

 

“Hey, Bendy?” Mary asked, looking around the walls again. “Did you guys not use this part?”

 

“Huh? Nah, we used _all_ this paper! Sometimes it'd be a pain to find the boards we were _s'posed_ to be looking at because the drawings were everywhere. Why?”

 

He looked around.

 

And then he realized.

 

Where they were standing, all the papers were blank.

 

“What the...?” he whispered, frowning. “That's--”

 

_**krsshhhhhh** _

 

There was a sound like a snake slithering on tissue paper.

 

Bendy and Mary slowly turned around, expecting to see the monster-Bendy.

 

What they didn't expect was to see hundreds of thick rivulets of ink bleeding out of the papers. The drawings far, far behind them were bleeding out onto the floor, the rivulets all slithering together into one spot ten feet behind them. Bubbling, churning, writhing ink was spreading across the floor like a growing whirpool, steadily and quickly expanding as _all those drawings_ were sucked dry to--

 

“ _Run,”_ Bendy whispered.

 

He didn't want for a response. He held Mary's hand even tighter and bolted down the narrow hall, the two of them kicking up loose papers and making the ones on the walls flap furiously.

 

The ink behind them actually _roared,_ a sound like water draining too fast from an old, rusty drain – and the water was gravely and full of sewage.

 

“ _RUN!”_ Bendy screamed.

 

The ink reared up; that awful roar filled the air.

 

And it surged after them.

 


	3. Ink

Imagine being in an empty office building.

 

The halls are far too narrow for a large group of people to walk, and the walls feel as if they'll start closing in on you any second.

 

You are alone. There is no life in any of the cubicles, no janitor whistling while he makes his rounds, no curious heads poking out of the doors. You are alone as you race down the cramped hall.

 

There is a suffocating smell in the air, of chemicals mixed with the foulest material that you'd really prefer not to think about too much. Every time you draw breath, you can taste it, feel it in your lungs, but you can't hold your breath.

 

And imagine, if you will, that while you are running in this cramped, empty, dead place, there is a torrent of water rushing towards you.

 

Now imagine the water is actually molasses-thick, black ink. It roars and churns upon itself as it surges after you, sloshing high on the walls, moving so high it touches the ceiling when you turn a corner. It bubbles thickly, a foul stench fills the air, you can hear it _screaming_ after you. You dare not turn to look back, for you know that you'll lose precious microseconds and give it that much more of an opportunity to ensnare you. Grab you and hold you fast like quicksand. Pull you into its thick, choking depths for a slow, painful drowning.

 

That is what Bendy and Mary endured, as they tore down the halls of the storyboard department, desperate to stay even just one step ahead of the tidal wave of ink.

 

Mary's heart pounded in her chest, so hard she felt it would explode. Her feet were in agony from the running, her hand gripped her wrench painfully – Bendy was holding her other hand so hard she couldn't feel her fingers anymore. But none of it mattered. She didn't dare slow down.

 

In fact, every time she felt the splash of cold ink hitting the backs of her legs, she ran even harder.

 

They had to stay _ahead,_ they had to stay _away!_

 

“^#%#, _where the * &#^ did Joey put the exit?!” _Bendy screeched, barely able to be heard above the sloshing, churning, roaring of ink. His attempted cursing came out like the squeaks of the squeaky doll Mary had in her pocket, and if the situation weren't so life-threatening, she might have laughed.

 

“ _If we get outta this, I'll kill 'im!”_ Bendy shouted again as the two turned a sharp corner. Papers flew into the air as Mary and Bendy kicked them back, landing – no, being _sucked into –_ the torrent of ink.

 

“ _ **BeNdyYYyy!”**_ the ink roared.

 

Mary looked over her shoulder, her expression one of pure terror. Ink flew up to splatter her shoulders and cheek, but she didn't care. “B-Bendy, why's it--?!”

 

“ _I don't know, I don't care, just run! GO!”_

 

Run? But _where?_

 

All they could do was turn corners, race down too-narrow corridors, and pray to find the door that led back out. The walls were too high to see an exit sign, they were truly running blind.

 

“ _& $#$!” _Bendy screamed when they turned one corner, and were confront with yet another cascade of bubbling ink.

 

Without a moment's thought, Mary grabbed Bendy in her arms. Ran the three paces forward to reach the opening in this maze. And _dove_ through the doorway, hitting the ground painfully.

 

Her shoulder throbbed, Bendy yelped in pain, but neither had time to pause. The two waves of ink met in the middle, splashing high and splattering the ceiling with black.

 

Mary scrambled off the floor, clutching Bendy in front of herself like a limp ragdoll. Behind her, the ink sloshed around furiously, as if trying to pull itself together _and_ determine which way it ought to be facing to go forward.

 

Which logically shouldn't have been a _thing,_ but--

 

“ **BeND _YYy!”_** the ink roared again. For a split second a piece of it separated from the rest, like a man popping out and scrabbling for a lifeline, his mouth opening so hide that it stretched – no, it _tore apart_ – his entire head. Then it was pulled back in and the wave cascaded after them again.

 

Mary was sure Bendy was saying something, but she couldn't hear above the pounding of her own heart. The hall was more cramped now, openings lining either side of her, papers flying off the walls and attempting to block her or blind her. Attempting to let her be caught.

 

She couldn't let it, she couldn't _let it!_

 

A tidal wave of ink behind her. A hurricane of papers in front of her, smacking her in the face and arms.

 

She and Bendy were going to die.

 

Mary began breathing faster, heavier. And not because of running. She knew it.

 

They were going to die.

 

They were going to _die._

 

_They were going to--_

 

Something thin, but hard and heavy, smacked into her shoulder. It toppled from above, from one of the narrow gaps between storyboard-wall and ceiling. The momentum from it knocked the child and toon into one of the tiny cubicles, where a desk sat among the flood of papers.

 

Mary saw the desk.

 

She saw what was _on_ the desk.

 

She ran.

 

Bendy turned himself around and looked over her shoulder, eyes going wide as he saw a Bendy cutout being swallowed up by the ink flood. Where had _that_ come from? How did it--

 

His train of thought slammed to a halt as Mary plunked him in the desk chair, climbing up herself to grab a glass bottle atop it. “Mary!” Bendy shouted. “What're you--?!”

 

The ink reached their 'sanctuary.' It began flooding the floor, it reared back again like a tsunami before it strikes. Bubbles and tacky globs churned angrily, Bendy swore he could see a _face--_

 

_(His face. His grinning face but it wasn't the same as the real him it wasn't him it wasn't--!)_

 

“ _ **BENDYYYYYY!”**_

 

“Bendy, look out!” Mary screamed, whirling around. Her arm reared back...

 

...and then she chucked the glass bottle hard as she could to the ground nearest the ink-wave's face.

 

The glass shattered, and Bendy's non-existent nose caught an unmistakable whiff of acetone.

 

It was such a small bottle. And that was such a huge flood.

 

But the effects were both instantaneous and devastating.

 

The wave almost seemed to collapse in on itself, folding and crumpling like a ball of paper. It roared, shrieked, screamed in agony and rage. So loud that it shook the walls, sending papers falling to the floor in a rush, so loud it forced Mary to cover her eyes and cry out.

 

Bendy watched as the ink writhed, then withdrew...

 

Then finally, sizzled and bubbled weakly as it sank into the floor and disappeared, leaving nothing but huge and harmless puddles. A shattered bottle sitting a few inches from his feet.

 

The acetone had driven the flood away, at least for the time being.

 

Mary shakily, slowly climbed down from the desk, breathing hard and holding back tears. She stumbled forward, meeting Bendy halfway, and fell to her knees. The floor was still wet with ink, and she ended up staining her knee socks black, but she didn't care. She just hugged Bendy tight and cried in relief.

 

They were alive.

 

Bendy let out a whoosh of air, reaching up to pat Mary on the head – taking care to mind the bump from Sammy's attack. “Y-You okay, Mary?” he finally said.

 

“U-Uh-huh!”

 

“Okay...o-okay, let's...let's get outta here.”

 

Mary nodded, still hiccup-crying a bit, and grabbed her wrench. With her free hand, she took Bendy's hand, and the two walked out of the tiny cubicle.

 

Neither knew when the flood would return, so both kept their ears out. But it never came back.

 

The floor was still spotted with puddles of ink, they could smell it in the air. But the flood thing never returned.

 

Bendy gripped Mary's hand tighter. It'd said his name. Just what _was_ that thing?

 

Mary suddenly cried out, forcing Bendy to stop. “What?!” he cried in alarm. “What is it?!”

 

“B-Bendy...Bendy, your _arm!”_ Mary cried.

 

They both looked.

 

Ink was running down his arm, from his hand to his elbow, steadily drip-drip-dripping onto the floor.

 


	4. Pause

 

“Mary – Mary, it's okay!”

 

“No, it's not!”

 

“Kiddo, it's--”

 

“I hit you with the bottle! I'm sorry, Bendy, I didn't _mean_ to!”

 

“Mary, you didn't hit me – I promise! The bottle didn't even come near me!”

 

Mary's cries quieted for the time being, though she didn't fully calm down.

 

She and Bendy were in one of the narrow halls still, her kneeling and Bendy standing. The wrench was lying on the floor near a small puddle of ink, and Mary was shakily trying to wrap a piece of paper around Bendy's shoulder. When she realized that wouldn't work, she settled for dabbing the runny spot like a mother dabs a cotton ball dipped in peroxide over a skinned knee. The paper wasn't quite absorbing the ink, but it was getting rid of the worst and runniest of it. At least a little bit.

 

But not enough. And Mary had been starting to panic.

 

Now, she lowered the paper to the floor, watching with wide, frightened eyes as Bendy rubbed his shoulder with one hand, as if to smooth the inky goop over.

 

“I _promise,_ kiddo,” he said again, smiling his usual smile. “The bottle missed me, and I didn't feel anything land on me anyway. This is probably nothing!”

 

“Bendy, you're _melting!”_ Mary cried, grabbing another piece of paper. “You're _melting!”_

 

“ _I can fix this!”_

 

“Huh?” Mary blinked rapidly.

 

Bendy was avoiding her eyes, looking instead at his shoulder as best he could with his large head. His hand continued to smooth and rub the ink he was made of, trying to stop himself from melting. “I can fix this, kiddo,” he said in a gentler voice. “I'm a toon – I'm made of ink, this can happen sometimes.”

 

“It never happened in the cartoons...”

 

“That's a cartoon, honey, this is _real life,”_ Bendy said. He briefly lifted his hand to study his shoulder, then nodded his satisfaction. “Toons are made o' ink, y'see...Usually we're stable but...”

 

He frowned, one hand going to the side of his head, as if he had a headache. “But ya found me...in a pipe?”

 

Mary nodded. “Uh-huh. You were stuck in the pipe by the Ink Machine, remember?”

 

“Yeah...yeah, I remember _that_ but...” His frown deepened as he fell silent for a few moments. After a long silence, he shook his head, eyes squeezing shut. “But the point is, I was mixed in with all that not-solid ink for a _long_ time. It probably wore me away a little or somethin'. I just need more ink and I'll be right as rain again!”

 

“Are you sure?” Mary asked, brows furrowing.

 

“Of course! Now...now c'mon.” He held his hand out to her. “Let's just get out of here before anything _else_ happens, 'kay?”

 

* * *

 

 

It took them roughly ten minutes to find the exit among the maze of walls. Luckily, the wave of ink never returned, though the pipes running in and out of the walls kept groaning. Mary gripped her wrench tightly, eyeing the ink puddles with apprehension, but no monsters popped out either.

 

She wondered if maybe they'd all been killed by the acetone.

 

It was such a tiny bottle, but it did so much damage.

 

As if sensing her thoughts, Bendy wordlessly squeezed her hand, and pushed open the wooden door.

 

“ _Finally,”_ he grumped. “I never knew why Joey made that room so big. Never made any sense.”

 

He and Mary walked further out, Mary kicking the door shut behind her. She looked around while Bendy did; the hall they'd wandered into didn't look much different from the rest of the place so far. It was the same dim lighting, the same wooden walls and floor, same disrepair in some areas, same ink stains...

 

“I think I recognize this,” said Bendy.

 

“You _do?”_

 

“Sure!” He began striding down the hall, arms swinging and head held high. As Mary trotted after him, he continued: “It's where Tim used to work! He used to--”

 

“Tim?”

 

“One o' the storyboard crew, kiddo – and one of the best. His office should right arooouuund – aha!” Bendy stopped at a door that didn't look any different from the others, and turned the knob. The room inside looked much like her uncle's did, only this one had towering stacks of paper, a few empty bottles lying around, and a small shelf lined with bacon soup. There was a little space cleared away on that shelf, to make room for a can opened, and – of all things – a large lighter.

 

Aside from that, it looked just as dismal and unsettling as the rest of the rooms, but Bendy grinned and looked around like he was in a luxury suite. “It's exactly like he left it,” he said, a tinge of emotion in his voice.

 

“Uhm...” Mary looked around again, trying to see what Bendy did. She liked all this paper stacked up, sure, but... Again, it looked like the rest of the place.

 

She might have been as excited as Bendy was if she'd stumbled upon it earlier, but the past hour or two of being chased, terrified, and kidnapped had soured her excitement a bit.

 

A sudden noise caught her attention, and she turned to see Bendy removing a can from the shelf, grabbing the can opener and lighter while he was at it. He walked back to the center of the room, heaving a sigh and flopping into a sitting position. “C'mon, kiddo, let's eat.”

 

“Now?”

 

“Well, why not? You slept, there's probably time for eatin'. Besides, you're a kid. Kids need food and all that.” Bendy worked the can opener on the bacon soup, popping the top off. Then he flicked the lighter with one hand and held it under the can. Mary sat down opposite him, watching curiously. What an odd way to cook...

 

A smile appeared on her face. Actually, this almost felt like camping, now.

 

Bendy's broad smile slowly faded into something else. Nostalgia, sadness, affection... “Tim used to take all his meals in here, see,” he said in a soft voice. “He ate his soup just like this. Said it was easier to stay in the right mood this way. I used to watch him work sometimes... long as I didn't interrupt him, he'd be alright with it.”

 

Mary watched as his expression grew even more thoughtful and melancholic. She scooted closer to him, sitting criss-cross applesauce with her hands on her knees. “Did he like you too?”

 

Bendy laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, of course he did! Everyone did, kiddo! And it's not like he'd _always_ sit there and just draw while I sat and watched. Sometimes he'd just stop all of a sudden, put down his pen and ink. He'd say somethin' like 'Bendy, ol' boy, my hands are starting to seize up. How about we play a game, to stretch them out a bit?' And we'd do one of my dances, or he'd toss a ball high into the air and try to catch it while I tried to sling-shot it out of the air--”

 

“You did that in one of the cartoons Uncle Henry showed me!”

 

“Sure did! 's'where Tim got the idea to make it a game. He boarded that sequence, you know.”

 

His smile faded again as he passed the soup can to her. Mary gingerly took it and began sipping. The flavor was a little too strong, and when she burped she could still taste bacon in her breath, but it filled her tummy and soothed her with its heat. Brief as it was, it was enough to make her forget she was in this creepy place, if only for a second.

 

As she tilted the can back to drink again, Bendy reached for one of the many glass bottles on the floor. He picked it up and Mary could see the tiniest amount of ink inside...it was the only bottle that had any left. Bendy shook the ink into his palm and started to slather it on his shoulder like sun lotion.

 

“...I liked your uncle, too, you know.”

 

Mary paused mid-drink.

 

“He was great. I liked to talk to him the most. He'd let me sit next to him at his desk while he drew. Sometimes he'd deliberately draw me off-model, just to see if I'd notice. 'course I always did,” he added with a wry chuckle. “Me, Boris, and Alice would spend a lot of time in his little office...

 

“Then things started goin' not-so-good.” His sad expression began to turn into a scowl. “Joey'd come into his office a lot. He'd send me out when that happened, and they'd argue. About what direction the show should take, about introducin' or droppin' a character, about...about money, and productivity...”

 

Mary slowly set her can down.

 

“...the fights got worse after the Ink Machine started bein' built. Joey got angrier and angrier. Henry got more an' more defensive.

One day Joey told Henry he worked for _him,_ and Joey signed the checks, and Joey controlled everything. Henry didn't have any liberties, he said.”

 

A shuddering, long inhale that he didn't fully need. “Henry packed up and quit, that same day. I kept hopin' he'd come back, but...”

 

The toon stiffened for a second as Mary enveloped him in a hug. She buried her face in his shoulder, holding him tightly, comforting him in the only way she knew how. Bendy squeezed his eyes shut, reaching up to grip the back of her pinafore.

 

“...I bet that's why he didn't come,” Bendy whispered.

 

“I'm sorry, Bendy...”

 

Bendy shook his head, giving Mary one brief squeeze before pulling away. “No. No, it's fine. It's past, and all that... Besides, I'll see 'im again, right?” His grin returned. “When we get ya outta here and home!”

 

Mary nodded, slowly at first, and then more enthusiastic.

 

Bendy grinned wider and lifted a hand to ruffle her hair. He squashed her bow down in the process, but Mary didn't mind, just laughing and batting at his hand. “So all the more reason for us to keep movin', if you're done eating.”

 

“I'm done.” Mary burped a little and stood up, dusting off her pinafore. As she retrieved her wrench, Bendy scrutinized the bottle of ink he'd used, one eye squeezing shut.

 

“Hmm...there wasn't a lot in this one...I think I'll be needing more that this.”

 

“Where do we get it?”

 

“Well....If I remember right, there oughta be a supply closet at the other side of this floor. We can head down there and check if there's ink.”

 

As he and Mary made for the door, Bendy glanced around the room again. All of the bottles were empty. Perfectly clean, too.

 

And all of them were labeled 'ink.'

 


	5. Bendy

The flickering of the light seemed to provide a kind of ambience as Mary faced off with the ink monster slopping its way towards her.

 

“Nnnyah!”

 

The wrench swung down, smacking the ink creature right on top of the head. It fell apart with a shrill screech, as all the others did. Mary made a face, taking a step backwards and flicking her wrench a few times to get most of the ink off of it. “Yuck...” she mumbled.

 

“I don't get it,” Bendy grumbled, rubbing his (nonexistent) chin with his hand. “Why weren't these guys in the storyboard room?”

 

“Hey, Bendy?” Mary asked, wiping the excess ink on her pinafore skirt. “What _are_ they, anyway?”

 

“Huh?”

 

The two were about midway down the hallway, on their way to the supply closet. There were the occasional little nooks with two desks in them, like the room Mary had found her uncle's desk in, but aside from that it was just a _hallway._ A hallway splattered with ink.

 

Ink that housed a monster that would pull itself out and come after her.

 

The first time it had happened, while she and Bendy were trying to drain the ink blocking the door, it had taken her off-guard. Bendy had tried to pull her out of the monster's grip, but in the end it was her whacking it over the head with her wrench that had helped. It'd fallen apart – well, exploded into ink, really – and Mary had kept her wrench on hand ever since.

 

Now it wasn't scary as much as it was annoying.

 

“I...” Bendy frowned, rubbing his head. “I don't...know...”

 

“But you live here.”

 

“I tolja, pumpkin. I spent years in a _pipe,”_ he chuckled. The lights flickered slightly, and the ink puddles seemed to writhe. “I don't know _where_ these beasties came from. All's I know is they're _disgusting.”_ He made a face and tugged on Mary's sleeve. “C'mon, let's keep moving.”

 

The lights dimmed as they walked. A bit like they did before reaching that room, where Mary had slept. Something must have been wrong with the lighting.

 

Bendy chuckled as the lights flickered once again. “Joey never did pay the bills on time,” he muttered, folding his arms. “Too much money was spent on the Ink Machine instead.”

 

“Is that why some parts are so bad?” Mary asked, just as a plank from the ceiling fell behind them.

 

“I think that plank just answered you,” Bendy laughed.

 

The lights dimmed, then went out altogether. Two seconds later, they came back on. But Mary and Bendy had stopped walking by this point, staring at the ceiling as if it'd provide answers. Something seemed to slowly be dawning on Bendy – and Mary was starting to realize it too.

 

“The lights,” she mumbled. “They're normally okay, right? When I came in here, they were fine...”

 

Bendy slowly nodded.

 

“They only went out like _this..._ when--”

 

The lights suddenly dimmed to almost-complete darkness, Bendy's form just a vague shadow in front of Mary. She saw him recoil back cartoonishly, his head whipping around to try and see something.

 

And then she smelled ink.

 

“ **BeeEEeNdYYy?!”**

 

The hall began shaking as something _very_ large and _very_ heavy began charging in their direction from the way they'd come.

 

“ _Run!”_ Bendy whispered.

 

Mary didn't need telling twice. She reached for Bendy's hand – Bendy grabbed her wrist and bolted down the hall.

 

The shaking intensified, making it harder for Mary to keep balanced.

 

The lights flickered on, off. On. Off. Plunged into darkness one second, then dim. Then somewhere in between.

 

And then they heard the sloshing sounds, like a giant ball of mud was dragging itself along at the same speed of a car, splattering against walls but never letting up. The overpowering stench of ink and rotten meat permeated the air.

 

“ **BeNDy? Is tHIS wHere You've GoNE?!”**

 

It was coming closer. Mary felt drops of ink spraying after them, hitting her socks.

 

The nearest door was to far. The only way was--

 

“Hurry! Here!” Bendy whispered, tugging Mary by the wrist towards one of the animator's desks. The two of them dropped down and quickly crawled underneath. Mary grabbed the chair, dragged it forward as quietly and quickly as she could, and scooted back towards the wall as far as she could go.

 

She and Bendy clung to each other, in the cramped, small space under the desk made even smaller by the chair. And said chair still had gaps through which to see them.

 

If they had any reservations, or plans to change hiding places, it was too late. A second later, a huge, inky mass shuffled around the corner and into their room.

 

Mary's heart stopped, her breath catching in her throat. The smell of the ink was overpowering, threatening to choke her. It got worse as the creature grew closer, and as he did...

 

“ _ **WhEre aRE thEy...?”**_

 

Mary's heart skipped a beat. That voice...

 

The inky creature moved to the desk opposite them – Mary held her breath, Bendy held her tighter – and slumped low to peek underneath. When it found nothing, its head swiveled a bit...

 

And Mary could see Bendy's face.

 

The inky Bendy from before. When she'd been running from the room Sammy had taken her to.

 

It was different now. Then it had been tall, skinny, distorted. A warped and twisted mockery of a man's body.

 

Now it was huge, towering, like a big ball of slime. It slid along like a slug, leaving inky, thick trails on the floor. A lump bulged from the front, just near the head, and a loooong sticky, dripping arm extended out. Thick ink hung in sticky strands from it, some dropping sloppily onto the floor.

 

Mary wanted to be sick.

 

“ **I _knOw_ yoU're HEre _somEwhere_...” ** the creature gurgled in a deep, warped voice. **_“_ YoU _just_ lEFt StorYBoards...”**

 

The tidal wave. The thing that screamed Bendy's name.

 

Mary jumped suddenly, _just_ managing to not bang her head on the underside of the desk and give them away. Not because of what she'd just realized, not because of the smell, or anything to do with the monster itself.

 

But because she'd felt something cool and wet hitting her arm.

 

She glanced over to Bendy, who was staring horrified at his own arm. She looked--

 

\--the shuffling on the other side of the room grew louder, wetter as the monstrous Bendy scooted around, closer to their hiding place--

 

\--and Bendy's arm was dripping again. Before it had been his shoulder, but now his elbow was actually _drooping._ Trails and globs of ink slowly dropped from his elbow, which itself was sagging towards the floor. Several drops were hitting Mary's sleeve, and several more pattered onto the wood floor, with the faintest _tp-tp_ sound.

 

The monstrous Bendy lifted his head abruptly. **“ _Ink...”_** it gurgled, a sound like sandy water being sucked into a garbage disposal. **_“I...”_**

 

It turned towards their desk, crawling forward. Mary's eyes teared up in terror.

 

“ _ **SMeLl...”**_

 

Bendy hugged Mary tighter, one hand going to the back of her head and pushing it down as if it would help shield her. They held their breaths, Mary's heart pounding....

 

“ _ **I nK....”**_

 

An arm moved towards the chair. An inky, dripping hand gripped the top of the chair-back....

 

And further down the hall, there was a loud clattering noise.

 

The monstrous Bendy suddenly reared up high, its head spinning around to look behind it. **“** _ **BeNdy! MaRy!”**_ it roared furiously, and whipped out of the room, globs of ink spewing after it and splattering on the walls.

 

The light flickered back on to the way they'd been before.

 

Seconds later, they could no longer hear him.

 

Mary's heart was beating so loudly she half-feared the monstrous Bendy would hear it and come back. She couldn't move. She was frozen, numb under the desk, and not just because her limbs were falling asleep.

 

“Mary,” Bendy whispered urgently, tugging her arm. “Mary, kiddo, we've gotta _go! Now!”_

 

She couldn't move.

 

She _didn't_ move.

 

“Mary – sweetheart, honey, we've gotta _go.”_ Bendy glanced desperately at his arm – a good third of it was dripping and oozing now, like slime. “ _Mary!”_

 

She looked up, clutching her wrench tight in one hand. Her eyes were wide, but she didn't seem to be looking at Bendy. She just shook her head rapidly, face pale and eyes filling with tears.

 

“Mary, honey, please, I know – we have to go, please!” With no other options, Bendy began tugging Mary along, forcing her to stumble after him or else skin her knees along the floor. “C'mon, _c'mon c'mon...”_ he whispered frantically, sounding like he was trying to spur _himself_ on as much as he was Mary.

 

The lights flickered, and a familiar roar echoed. Far away, but a grim reminder.

 

It seemed to break the spell on Mary, because she blinked suddenly, straightened even with her shaking legs, and began running as Bendy pulled her behind him.

 

The lights flickered more and more, repeatedly plunging them in and out of darkness, but they didn't stop. Run, run, run, get to the door, get to it before--

 

“ _ **WHERE ARE YOU?!”**_

 

The door opened a crack just as the halls shook.

 

Bendy threw the door open wider, and he and Mary fell inside in a heap. Immediately, the door clicked shut, plunging the two of them in complete darkness. They heard a faint slithering nearby, and then nothing.

 

Mary sat with her hands planted on the floor, her breathing heavy. She was still shaking, her heart pounding with fear, with the knowledge of just _how_ close that had been.

 

...and that Bendy. That monstrous Bendy knew her name.

 

It...it might have been able to read it, embroidered on her collar like Sammy had, but--

 

“...ry? Honey, are you okay?”

 

Mary started as she came back to the present. Bendy's hands were on her shoulders, and she could hear the _drip drip drip_ of his ink sloughing away onto the floor.

 

“Bendy!” she cried haorsely, lunging forward and wrapping him in a tight hug. “Bendy...”

 

“Shhh, we're okay, kiddo...we're okay...just...I think this is the--”

 

“Your arm...y-your arm is--!”

 

“It's okay, honey! I think we're – I think this is the supply closet.”

 

“It's so dark...”

 

“Yeah...it is...” He sounded suspicious.

 

A scraping sound along the floor. Mary and Bendy stiffened, but nothing else came.

 

Mary felt Bendy step away, heard him touching the floor. “I think – oh! Matches!” His voice grew slightly louder as he straightened, his head close to hers again. “Okay, let's light one of these bad boys...”

 

_Swik!_

 

A small light illuminated Bendy's face as he smiled at Mary. Her heart broke a bit to see that one of his horns was drooping now too.

 

“And light! Now, we just need to find the ink...”

 

“Right. Right, ink...”

 

Mary and Bendy walked towards one of the far walls, were shelves were full of...empty bottles? That was odd... “There must be more near the end,” he whispered, slowly turning and using the lit match to illuminate the shelf. Empty bottles...empty...empty...a few were half-full, good, and after that...

 

The light hit something huddled in a corner.

 

Mary and Bendy _screamed._

 

 


	6. Alice Angel

 

When Mary was five, she'd been given an Alice doll for Christmas.

 

She knew Alice's face well. She'd seen that doll every day, slept with it tucked under her arm every night for a year. She saw it in the cartoons. She saw it in some of the posters around this very studio.

 

She knew Alice's features perfectly. Her smooth face, her round head. The black toon eyes, the lipsticked mouth. Her “impossible proportions” as her mom called them.

 

She knew Alice, and loved her.

 

But this...

 

The round, smooth head was a human skull, squeezed and pulled like clay. The toon eyes were too large, horrifying black _holes_ inside a half-flesh, half-ink head. The mouth was painted onto the flat surface of her face, yet it still moved as it did in the cartoons, revealing pitch-black hole that _wasn't_ a hole at the same time.

 

Her body looked like a real woman's body that had been put through a taffy puller – limbs stretched and thin to truly impossible measurements, her waist threatening to snap at any given moment. The hair was a black mass, so black that it was as if one were blind in that very specific part of their vision.

 

And it didn't stop there, either.

 

Alice was very, very much _melting._

 

She lay there in the corner, cringing away from the light, her limbs, dress, and hair a gooey mass on the floor, nearly impossible to tell what was what part of her.

 

Mary had the briefest, wildest image of a doll melting in the sun, while sitting in a pile of chewed-up sticky gum and tar.

 

Alice moaned, slowly shifting her body so her head wouldn't fall off her neck, and held two fingers to her lips. Two, because her fingers were fusing together by their own ink. “ _Shhh..._ ” she murmured, a faint gurgling undertone to her voice. _“Be quiet...he might hear us...”_

 

“Alice!” Bendy cried, throwing himself at her. Her landed in some of her half-melted dress, splashing little waves of ink up, but neither of them seemed to care. Mary watched, half-horrified and half-despairingly, as Bendy desperately moved his hands to either side of Alice's head. “Alice – Oh my _God,_ Alice, I thought – what – who--”

 

“ _Shhhssss...”_ Alice held her fingers to her lips again, then tried to smile. Her mouth slipped slightly off her face, and she had to stop. _“I'm glad you're alive, Bendy...”_

 

“'course I am! Wh-why wouldn't I be?” he laughed desperately, one hand grabbing at the space between his horns. “Alice, what _happened_ to you?!”

 

Alice had stopped smiling a second ago already, but at Bendy's question she looked even more morose, turning away from the two of them. _“The Ink Machine...and Joey.”_

 

Joey? Mary's breath caught. Joey Drew? What did he have to do with this?

 

“What? What do you mean?” Bendy was apparently wondering the same thing.

 

Alice frowned – a bad move, as it made sloughs of paper-like skin fall into her eyes. She had to push them back and smooth over her forehead again. “ _You remember, don't you?”_ she whispered.

 

Bendy frowned, a much less risky move. He slowly shook his head, gripping his head tighter. “I don't...remember much of anything,” he admitted. “I mean, I remember you all, and being at the studio, and the Ink Machine being built, but everything up to Mary finding me--”

 

“ _Good. Maybe it's best you don't...”_ Alice whispered, sounding ready to cry. Before either of them could ask, she looked past Bendy and over to Mary. _“You've brought a child with you...She shouldn't be here. No human should--”_

 

“I know, I know,” Bendy sighed. “And we're _tryin'_ to get her outta here, get her home.”

 

“ _Humans shouldn't be here....”_ Alice looked away again, an immense sadness in her eyes. _“He won't let them stay human for long...”_

 

“Alice?” Mary whispered, taking a nervous step forward. Her shoe landed in some of Alice's melted body, and she had to suppress a shudder. Bendy looked to her and put a hand on her arm, prompting her to continue speaking. “What...what _happened_ here?”

 

“ _As I told Bendy...the Ink Machine happened.”_

 

Something in her tone told them both that she wasn't done speaking yet. That there was more to come. And sure enough, Alice looked up at the wall, expression distant. It was as if she were watching everything replay before her eyes like a movie.

 

“ _Susie...Susie wasn't as perfect as he wanted her to be. She was wonderful...wonderful. But it wasn't enough._

 

_He grew frustrated. The two of us were often put together. He told her to learn from me, to get it right, sing louder, better, be perfect..._

_It was never enough, no matter what she did. He grew angry._

 

_The ink creatures in the hall...he thought he could improve after that. He thought he had it right. He was angry and desperate, and Susie...”_

 

Alice gurgled deep in her throat just then. Mary jumped and made to reach for her, fearing the worst, but Alice just bowed her head and waved her away, shoulders trembling. That gurgle...had been a sob.

 

“ _Susie...Susie and I were put in the room with that machine...I tried to reason with him. Susie was so afraid – she kept **screaming,** begging him to see reason...She kept trying to get out, but he didn't listen. He just stayed outside, lighting candles and reciting until...”_

 

Alice trailed off, and was silent for a long time.

 

The only sound in the room was the steady dripping of Bendy's arm, falling to the floor.

 

“ _...it failed. Susie was gone, but I remained...but something had happened to me. I was falling apart...I needed ink._

_It's all in the ink. If we've given enough ink when we're created, and if we stay away from that machine, or from acetone, then we'll be fine. But the machine took my ink, it drained me, and... He didn't see that. He didn't listen to me. All he saw was a failed experiment._

 

“ _I got to more ink, but it wasn't enough. He was taking away too much of it, using too much of my ink, Boris's ink...He kept taking it away for the machine, trying to...”_

 

Another pause.

 

“ _I tried to block off the machine. When I heard it being activated, I tried to keep that monster in...”_

 

“That was _you?”_ Mary gasped before she could stop herself. “You put up those boards?”

 

Alice nodded – and quickly grabbed her head so it wouldn't drop off her shoulders. “ _I can still leave this room,”_ she gurgled. _“But for my own safety, I can't go too far...I can't keep myself too far from the ink. I have to use as little as I can, to delay the....to keep alive longer,”_ she finished weakly. _“But I was able to do that much, if I worked quickly and hurried back._

 

“ _But the boards did not help...that_ _ **monster**_ _just slipped through,”_ she added, an angry bitter edge to her voice.

 

“I'm sorry,” Mary whispered. “I thought...I thought the machine would make Boris all better--”

 

“It did,” Bendy cut her off. “The machine fixed Boris – it can fix Alice too if--”

 

“ _No.”_ Despite the low, whispery tone her voice had had the entire time, that word was sharp as a knife. _“No, no good can come of that machine...You must stay away from it. Do you understand me?!”_

 

At those last words, she whipped around, gripping Bendy's hands between her own. The movement was so swift and sudden that it sent huge globs of ink flying from her body and into the puddle she was sitting in/made from. Her hands squished slightly as she gripped Bendy's, but neither of them seemed to care, staring wide-eyed at each other.

 

“ _Do you **understand me?”**_ she whispered. _“You stay away from it...It's feeding that monster, it's pumping more and more ink through the pipes and every drop of it goes into his body. He'll know you're near it, he'll take you just like he took – we're **ink,** Bendy, he would swallow you up if he found you.”_

 

Bendy just stared.

 

Alice's hands gripped tighter. _“Stay away from it...”_ she repeated. _“Get the girl out of here, but stay away from the machine.”_

 

Mary, not knowing anything else to say, piped up with “There's a big hole in front of the exit...we were lookin' for the back door--”

 

“ _I will provide you a way across. Just....stay away from the Ink Machine.”_

 

Bendy's wide-eyed, stricken expression softened, and he slowly moved Alice's hands back towards her own body, his calmness allowing her to ease up. “Okay,” he said simply. “Okay, we won't use the machine to help you...but we _are_ getting you more ink.” His tone grew more determined. “Mary's getting out of here, and then we're getting ink for you and me. And we'll get Boris from downstairs, and the three of us will get out of here.”

 

“ _It's a nice thought, but--”_

 

“No, we will!” Mary piped up again, the hand not holding the wrench curling into a fist. “We've – we've stayed away from the other Bendy before, we can just give you more ink and take all of you home! To Uncle Henry! It'll be okay again, we just...”

 

* * *

 

 

Downstairs, Boris slowly creaked open the door and peered out.

 

On this floor, one could hear the Ink Machine pumping away on a regular basis. But in the past ten minutes, it had just gotten louder. That wasn't normal...

 

He tentatively left the room, picking his way through the broken wood and boarded-up sections of the hallway. When he'd run down here to hide, there had been puddles of ink everywhere, a flood of it in front of one of the other doors.

 

Now, curiously enough, there was nothing. Everything on this floor was bone-dry...

 

_drip_

 

Boris paused. A droplet of ink had fallen from the ceiling, landing on the floor just in front of him. But where...

 

_drip drip_

 

“ _ **I....”**_

 

Boris froze at the familiar, garbled voice. He slowly, shakily looked up.

 

“ _ **SmEll...”**_

 

His eyes met a familiar, horrific grin that took up the entire ceiling above him.

 

“ _ **INK.......”**_

 

Boris turned to run, but it was too late.

 

With a heavy, wet thud, the monstrous Bendy fell to the floor like water from a burst pipe. His huge hand grabbed Boris tight – it was so large that Boris's whole body was swallowed up in it, not even his head or feet were visible. Bendy lurched forward, making shoveling motions and bobbing his head a bit. It was difficult to tell what he was doing, really...whether he was eating something or pulling something close.

 

But in the end, the result was the same. His body convulsed and rippled, and in a few seconds he was a little larger than he'd been already. Ink dripped and dribbled from his grinning mouth like saliva, and when he lifted his head and set his arms down, Boris was completely gone.

 

And the Ink Machine kept pumping more ink, feeding Bendy just as Boris had.

 

“ ** _BeNDy.....”_**

 

* * *

 

 

“ _We just need to get out.”_

 


	7. Drip

 

“ _I want the two of you to stay here...”_

 

“ _Alice--”_

 

“ _I've been hiding out here for thirty years, Bendy. And you've been... It will be easier if I go. I've boarded up the room without either of you hearing me once. I can very easily make a bridge for Mary.”_

 

“ _But we--”_

 

“ _Stay here. If I don't return in ten minutes, don't wait. Just go.”_

 

That was three minutes ago. And now Mary and Bendy were alone in the darkened supply closet.

 

Bendy carefully smoothed the meager ink over his arm, Mary holding the jar out to him. He held his arm straight out at his side and the two watched, Mary holding her breath. The match-light made orange spots dance along Bendy's inky arm, just allowing them to see it retain its shape...

 

...for a few seconds. It didn't droop as dramatically as it had when they'd first come in, but it did noticeably sag and loosen, beads of ink trailing to his gloved hand like sweat.

 

Bendy sighed in disappointment, sitting back and wiping his forehead – more ink smeared across his white face, and one of his horns sagged even further down. “It's no good,” he muttered. “We need _more.”_

 

Mary looked to the shelves. “Maybe we can--”

 

“No.” Bendy's response was immediate, sharp. He looked at the shelves of ink – barely enough left – with a pained expression. “No. No, this is _Alice's_ ink, I'm not taking it away from her.” When Mary didn't say something in response, he sighed, reaching out to pat her shoulder. A few drops of ink splattered onto the floor. “I'm sorry, kiddo... I know you're worried about me, but...”

 

He looked at the shelves again, then to the floor. “But _I'm_ worried about Alice...”

 

Now that he knew she was still in this place...in this awful state...he couldn't leave her behind either. Not the way she was. Not with so little ink left, and with such a small 'safe time' she could be away from her supply.

 

Dear God, she'd been stuck here, stuck like _that,_ for thirty years. Thirty years, while he'd been jammed in a pipe, not quite sleeping but not quite _there_ either.

 

….what had he been doing in the _pipe?_

 

The Ink Machine, something about the machine, something about Alice's story...

 

“--together?”

 

“Huh?” Bendy blinked, looking back up at Mary. “What'd ya say, kiddo?”

 

Mary was fiddling with the ink bottle in her hands when the match went out. They were in darkness for only a few seconds before Bendy struck another match, holding it between them so they were in equal amounts of light. Mary looked back at Bendy.

 

“Didja spend a lot of time together?” she said quietly.

 

“Oh, _lots,_ pum'kin. _Lots.”_ Bendy's smile became nostalgic as he looked to the door Alice had oozed out of. “Me, her, an' Boris. When the crew were busy, we'd all hang out together. It wasn't like when Tim and I'd toss a ball in the air, it was more like...shootin' the breeze, teasing Sammy behind his back...practicin' for our shows. Alice and I would sometimes talk about pitching a tango scene to Joey.”

 

_Joey._

 

_The Machine._

 

Bendy grunted in pain, one hand flying to his misshapen head. What was _with_ these headaches?

 

“Bendy?” Mary's voice was small.

 

“'m fine,” he grunted, forcing his usual grin.

 

Mary didn't look convinced.

 

“Heeeey, c'mon now kid. Don't make me dribble my head again. The rate it's going, it'll just look like I dropped ice-cream.”

 

Mary's frightened, tense face looked even worse.

 

 _Terrible idea, Bendy,_ he told himself.

 

“Hey, hey, Mary. Honey. It's _not_ that bad,” he said out loud, both hands on her shoulders now. “Really.”

 

“But--”

 

“Hey. Hey, I ever tell ya about when Boris an' me replaced your uncle's ink with _invisible_ ink?”

 

Mary blinked, worry fading and replaced with curiosity. It was a good thing she was a kid, Bendy thought at that moment. Kids were so easily distracted, easy to cheer up... “No,” she said with a shake of her head.

 

“Ohhhh man!” Bendy cackled, slapping his knee. “It's a _good_ one! So, it was April Fool's Day, and Boris said we _had_ to do something, but yanno, we wanted to do something better than whoopie cushions on the animators' chairs, right--”

 

The matches kept burning and going out, and Bendy kept having to strike more. The fire made his melting a little worse, but he didn't care – this was okay, he told himself, they'd find more ink after he got Mary out. He'd get her out, maybe she could run home to Henry and bring ink back, or he could quickly find some himself, and then he'd save Alice and sneak Boris past that monstrous _other him_ and it'd all be okay--

 

\--but he had to keep talking and telling stories and keeping Mary calm.

 

His purpose was making people laugh, making them happy. He had to keep doing that now, too.

 

Especially because, as he wiped his brow and saw the black smears on his palm, he _really_ needed to laugh himself.

 

* * *

 

 

“....hey, Bendy?”

 

“Yeah, kiddo?”

 

“It's been...way longer than ten minutes, hasn't it?”

 

“......yeah.”

 

“...Alice told us to go if--”

 

“I know.”

 

“We should go.”

 

“I know.”

 

Mary stood up, pausing to retrieve her wrench again. She'd probably take it home with her, she figured. Heck, there was no other place to put it – it felt wrong to toss it in the bushes after she left through the door, and she _definitely_ couldn't throw it onto the sidewalk – Mom would count that as littering.

She'd have to explain to Uncle Henry where it came from, and then he'd come back for the others and--

 

“Ah!”

 

“Bendy?!” Mary whirled around, quickly striking a match herself. In the flickering light, she saw Bendy kneeling on the ground, his hands wrapped tight around one of his legs. Between his gloved fingers, she saw more ink dribbling through. “Bendy, what's wrong?!”

 

“Give...give me a sec,” Bendy grunted through his clenched teeth. He inhaled shakily, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to steady himself. Focus, breathe, focus, concentrate...

Ink slid down his face like sweat as he tried to force his leg back into a solid shape, tried to ignore the way he felt like his shoe was sinking into the floor. Mary was calling his name again, but it sounded distant.

 

Concentrate, concentrate....

 

_I need ink...I need **your** ink._

 

Bendy's eyes snapped open as he gasped. Where had _that_ come from? That wasn't him thinking anything, that was--

 

Once again, his attention was seized away. This time, however, it was because Mary was kneeling in front of him, blowing out the match and taking his hand. He felt her looping his arms around her neck, and then she was picking him up piggy-back. In the pitch-black, she navigated her way to the door, slowly creaking it open and peering out to see if the coast was clear.

 

It was.

 

But even as she stepped out into the hall, Bendy was anxious. “Mary,” he whispered, looking down at his leg. In the light, he could see it was mostly-melted. Barely resembling a leg at all anymore – now it just looked like black, melting bubble-gum. “Mary, I can walk, just give me a few second--”

 

“No,” Mary's response was quick. She swallowed audibly, and though Bendy couldn't see her face, he _could_ see how tightly she gripped the wrench while supporting him. “You helped me. I'll help you. 'sides, I carried you on my back when you got outta the pipe. I can carry you more.”

 

Bendy stared, leaning back a bit. Mary didn't notice – or maybe she didn't care – as she marched on as quietly as she could. After a moment, he sighed and slumped against Mary's back, resigned to his fate. Maybe it was best she carry him anyway; the rate his leg was dripping ink behind them, it'd have only been a matter of time until he collapsed or something anyway.

 

They followed the trail of ink smeared on the floor – Alice's trail. Hopefully she was just tired, or it was taking longer than expected for her to make that bridge she'd talked about. Bendy found himself praying that she'd hurry back to that closet before she melted entirely – she obviously wouldn't last long without her supply of ink.

 

And, he realized grimly as another wet splash reached his nonexistent ears, neither would he.

 

The ink trail on the floor wasn't the only bit of black goop there. Every now and then, Mary'd see a still-wet stain on the floor, about the size of a huge puddle. She'd grip the wrench tighter in her hand, holding her breath and waiting for the monsters to pop out and ooze towards them like they always did...

...but nothing happened.

 

The ink wasn't even a puddle anymore. It was just a stain. Like someone had taken a giant sponge to it and sucked it all up but it wasn't _quite_ enough to get the job done.

 

“We're lucky, Bendy!” Mary whispered loudly, jostling him slightly. “The monsters are gone!”

 

“Yeah...that's great, kiddo,” Bendy whispered back.

 

_drip_

 

Mary faltered for a moment, then quickened her pace. Bendy was getting worse. She could tell.

 

His arms were feeling heavier around her shoulders, like they were going limp, and the sound of dripping followed them down the halls.

 

Maybe...maybe there would be more ink in another room. A room she'd overlooked. Maybe she and Bendy could take a detour and look around for it instead? Or the Ink Machine – it pumped ink, a steady supply, maybe she could put him back in the room where Boris was and they could feed him ink. And they could bring Alice with them--

 

_drip_

 

\--and everything would be okay. Mary swallowed the lump in her throat, blinking the tears out of her eyes. Everything would be okay...

 

Bendy could forget he was ever stuck in that pipe – hey, he already forgot _why_ he was in there, so the rest should be easy, right?

 

_Drip-drip_

 

Mary walked faster, careful not to jostle Bendy too much and make him lose even more of his form.

 

“Whoa, whoa, kiddo! Pum'kin, sweetie!” Bendy yelped as Mary rounded another corner. Up ahead of them was a flight of stairs leading to a door. The ground floor. Just up those stairs and they'd reach the exit. “Mary, slow down, I'm not goin' anywhere...”

 

“But--!” Mary cried, turning her head as best she could to look back at him. “But you're _melting,_ Bendy! You're still melting, I can hear you!”

 

Bendy leaned over so he could look at her. And Mary's heart stuttered.

 

The black ink above his face was slowly dripping down, almost obscuring one of his eyes, the rest looking like black sweat. One of his horns had slid halfway down his head and had lost most of its form on the way, making him look deformed and lopsided.

 

He smiled despite that.

 

“Kiddo,” he said. “I'm not...it's not that bad.”

 

 _Yes it is,_ she wanted to say.

 

“I mean. I'm melting, okay, sure but- but you can't _hear_ me, I'm not dripping that much!”

 

_dripdrip_

 

“Yes you are!” Mary cried. “I just heard you!”

 

Bendy just stared, smile fading as the light dimmed slightly.

 

_Drip_

 

“Mary...”

 

_pliP_

 

“I'm _not_ dripping that much.”

 

And then a drop of ink fell...beside his head.

 

From above.

 

Mary and Bendy slowly looked up.

 

And came face-to-face with the giant, mad grin of the monstrous other Bendy, his head just a foot above the two.

 

“ _ **Found you.”**_

 

Mary didn't know what happened next. One second she was staring wide-eyed at the monster Bendy, oozing out of the ceiling like the worst leak on Earth, the next she was bolting down the hall towards the stairs. Maybe Bendy shouted for her to run, she didn't know – her heart was beating too loudly in her ears, drowning out all the other noise. Bendy was shouting in her ear but it was distant, she had to keep running.

 

Her feet pounded against the creaky wooden floor, the halls shook as the monster crashed onto the floor and surged after her--

 

\--it felt like an eternity. But in reality...

 

...in reality, she'd only run for two seconds, had only ran a few feet. Not enough time, not enough distance, and the monster was much bigger than she was.

 

A huge, clawed hand of ink swatted Mary aside like a cat smacks a mouse. The breath was knocked out of Mary as she flew against the wall, dropping Bendy. Her friend slid along the floor just two feet away, leaving an inky trail much like Alice's.

 

Her wrench landed beside him, too far for her to reach.

 

“ _Bendy!”_ she screamed, reaching for him.

 

Too late. The giant hand crashed onto her, and for a second she was submerged in ink. Somehow – ink magic? - it didn't stain her clothes or face or hair, it felt as solid as her mom's gelatin. The ink shifted around her, pushing her to the top-- and her head poked out of the monster's fist as he sl o o o o wly brought her to his face.

 

He was enormous...Mary's head was a fraction of the size of his grinning teeth alone. She had to crane her head back to look at his eyes – her own wide and terrified as she struggled to move.

 

Her wrench was gone. Bendy was losing shape and was all the way over there and she was all the way up here, there was no way she'd--

 

“ _ **Mary...”**_ the monster hissed and gurgled. His voice was more even now – Mary could easily guess why, as he held her nearer the ceiling and she heard the ink machine still pumping away. More ink. More stability. More coherence.

 

“ _ **Henry's. Little. Niece,”**_ it went on flatly. Then its head bowed faintly, and it chuckled – a deep, rolling, gurgling sound that made her skin crawl. **_“I didn't expect him to have one...but here you are...”_**

 

“B-Bendy!” Mary cried out, shaking like a leaf.

 

Down below, Bendy was struggling to get back up, his arms shaking, his eyes shut tight. One hand went to his head again, as if he had another headache.

 

“ _ **And if you're here...then Henry won't be far behind, will he? He'll be** **soooo happy to see what's become of us. What I've in store for him...Sammy did not appreciate my gift, but perhaps your dear uncle will.”**_

 

Sammy. Sammy had hated his ink body...He'd died, Mary and Bendy both heard it. And Alice's story...

 

Bendy rose to his knees, nearly collapsing to the side as his leg gave out and lost shape beneath him.

 

“ _ **Oh but don't** **worry, little one~”**_ the monster Bendy cooed. **_“You won't be left out...You gave me so much trouble, but I can forgive and forget...You'll get the same thing your uncle will...”_**

 

Mary's eyes went even wider, her breath faltering. No. No no no no

 

“ _ **I think...I think I'll have a nice.** **Special. New body for you--”**_

 

SPLAT!

 

The monstrous Bendy had been raising her closer and closer to his face as he'd been speaking, but when the ball of ink hit him, he suddenly lowered her back down. He didn't let go, but she was lower to the floor now. If she freed herself and jumped – well, maybe she'd only get away with a hurt ankle, she could--

 

But he wasn't letting go. Instead, he was whirling his head around, snarling wetly.

 

Glaring down at Bendy, who was half-lying on the floor, both his legs oozing into a puddle. His arm was still held in a throwing position, and a chunk of his drooping horn was missing.

 

He was breathing harshly, glaring up at the monstrous _him_ with as much hatred as his toony little eyes could show. And then he spoke.

 

Or rather, he _yelled._

 

“JOEY DREW!” he screamed. “YOU PUT HER _**DOWN!”**_

 


	8. Joey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the moment I've been dying to write since I started this AU.... 8'D

 

“JOEY DREW, YOU PUT HER _**DOWN!”**_

 

Mary's breath caught.

 

_Joey?_

 

“ **Bendy...”**

 

Suddenly the ground was rushing up to meet her as the monstrous Bendy – _Joey?! -_ lowered himself to the floor, fists against the ground to brace himself up.

 

(He filled the entire hallway, from top to bottom to sides, and it was hard to say how _tall_ he was too...

And with the Ink Machine still pumping, still churning out more ink to feed into his body, he was only growing bigger.)

 

Mary wiggled around in Bendy's – _Joey's! -_ fist, struggling to get free. She was directly across from Bendy, she could see him struggling to keep his form as he glared defiantly at his own face.

 

Bendy – _Joey –_ just _laughed,_ deep in his chest.

 

“ _ **Really,**_ **Bendy...you've spent all this time running away from me...and now you're going to try to play the hero? Isn't that a little...off-script? You can't just change character in the middle of a story, you know...”**

 

“This ain't one o' yer _scripts,_ Joey!” Bendy roared back. Ink rolled down his face in beads. “It's _reality!_ We ain't your tools, we're living creatures, and that's a *$&##$ kid!” The swear came out sounding like a clown nose honking, but it did nothing to diminish the intensity of the situation. “She's got nothin' to do with this!”

 

“ _ **Hmm.**_ **That is true...”**

 

Mary suddenly yelped as she was lifted up towards the ceiling again. To her terror, Joey began tossing her lightly into the air over and over, as if she were a tennis ball, her bow brushing the ceiling every time. After a few moments, he stopped, closing his fist around her again.

 

“ **But don't you think she deserves perfection? To be famous? Immortality? I'm sure she and Henry both would appreciate it _far_ more than Sammy did...Especially now that I'm _so_ close to--”**

 

“Yer *#$#* up, Joey,” Bendy hissed, pitching towards the ground as his arm gave out from under him. His head hung briefly in agony, and then he was glowering up again. “Did thirty years in that machine do _nothin'_ to you?”

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Joey?”_

 

_Bendy rapped on the open door as he leaned in, staring into the room._

 

_Joey stood with his back to him, checking something on the Ink Machine. There was a funny noise coming from it, something Bendy hadn't heard it ever making before. Was there a malfunction?_

 

_But if there was, what'd Joey need Bendy for? Bendy wasn't a mechanic..._

 

“ _Bendy, my friend!” Joey smiled as he turned to face Bendy at last. He looked haggard. The lines underneath and at the corners of his eyes, the ones he started getting after Henry left and so many employees went with him, were more pronounced than ever. He pushed himself away from the machine – still making that odd **noise** – and approached Bendy. His knees bent so he could rub his hand over Bendy's head, as if he were ruffling someone's hair. “Good of you to show up...”_

 

“ _Ah, Joey,” Bendy chuckled warily. “You know I'll always be here!”_

 

_The studio...the studio was his home. He had his friends, his co-stars. He couldn't abandon them._

 

“ _'sides, what else would I do? Bail?” he laughed, planting his hands on his hips and scuffing at the ground._

 

_Joey chuckled, and it had an edge to it. “Well...after Henry and half the gang, I can't be too sure...” He turned back to the machine and fiddled with something on it._

 

 _The noise grew louder, smoother. Bendy had never heard it make_ this _noise before, but he did hear it_ somewhere _once. What was it...?_

 

“ _I can't be too sure...” Joey added again, in a lower tone._

 

_Bendy suddenly felt apprehensive. “Are ya still worried about Alice an' Boris?” he asked. “They're prob'ly just hidin' somewhere – playin' a goof on us. Like the pranks I'd do – with the invisible ink, remember?” His grin stretched his face wide as he cackled, slapping his knee. “That was a good one, huh, Joey?”_

 

_Joey didn't laugh._

 

_Bendy's attempt failed._

 

_The toon's smile faded, and he sighed, shoulders slumping. One hand came up to rub his arm...Henry should be here, he thought. Henry would fix all this..._

 

“ _Listen, Bendy...ol' pal...” Joey began._

 

“ _Huh?” Bendy blinked, glancing back towards him._

 

_Joey still had his back to him. He stood up, opening a hatch at the top of the machine._

 

“ _Listen...I've been thinkin' about a way to save our studio.”_

 

“ _Wow, really?! Lay it on me!”_

 

“ _Now, don't get the wrong idea...I'm not blaming you or your friends, or anyone else at this studio. But...you're toons. You're toons, given real form. And we're...we're only human, Bendy. We have amazing ideas, but you make them come to life. We live through_ you.

 

“ _But it's not enough. Something is in our way...No matter how much we love you, Bendy, no matter how much we want to give cartoons life, we're only human. We can't think like you. We can't feel the way you do. We're...nothing like you...We're too weak, we're too flawed, we're...nothing.”_

 

“ _Joey...” Bendy whispered, throat tight. His eyes stung, a clear tear steadily rolled down his cheek. “That's not...that's not true. You're all_ wonderful, _Alice, Boris, and I--”_

 

“ _It's all right, Bendy. It's going to be all right,” Joey interrupted. “I've figured it out.”_

 

“ _Figured what out?”_

 

_Joey turned away from the Machine, his face lighting up with a smile as he moved towards Bendy. In one swift motion, he picked him up under his arms and held him high._

 

_He turned back to the machine._

 

_And suddenly Bendy placed what that strange noise was._

 

_**Grinding. Blending.** _

 

“ _I figured out....how to be more like **you.”**_

 

* * *

 

 

“You _can't_ be like us, Joey – Ya shouldn't even try! You're _human,_ you're _meant_ to be human! Yer supposed to be everything a human's s'posed to be – imperfections an' all – an' _yer not supposed to be doing this to innocent people!”_

 

Mary was staring down in terror, her heart beating so loud it nearly deafened her.

 

Joey...Joey had done this? To Bendy? To Alice, and Boris, and--

 

_Susie. Sammy. The ink monsters..._

 

_They were all..._

 

“HEEEEELP!” Mary suddenly screamed, leaning forward as far as she could. “HEEEEEEEELP!”

 

“ ** _You_ be quiet!” ** Joey snapped, shaking the fist she was in for good measure. **“Are _you_ going to deny my gift, too? I expected better from you, Bendy,” **Joey added in a low hiss, lowering himself further to the floor again, eye to eye with Bendy. The grin on his face twisted and swiveled 180 degrees til it was upside-down, and then he was meeting Bendy's glower with one of his own. **“I _expected_ you to understand...But you ruined everything. I just needed your ink, Bendy, just your ink!”**

 

* * *

 

 

“ _I need your ink...”_

 

_Bendy didn't even have time to scream before he was dropped into the machine, the door slamming shut behind him._

 

_No no no please not this_

 

_he was moving and struggling to get out but the machine was grinding and blending away he could feel himself being pulled apart_

 

_he swam for it he found a tight passageway and kept moving and it was hard to move but he couldn't let Joey do this_

 

_he heard a muffled shout of alarm, felt something in the ink air ink change and he somehow **knew** whatever Joey was trying was starting to fail but he couldn't stop swimming he had to get out_

 

_had to_

 

_had to..._

 

… _..had to what....?_

 

* * *

 

 

“You tried to _kill_ me,” Bendy hissed back. “You killed Boris...you almost killed Alice, you killed Susie! You killed Sammy, and who knows who else?! You know what, Joey?!” Bendy inhaled shakily as his arm shifted beside him, his one uncovered eye briefly darting to Mary, who was staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.

 

“ _Henry was right to leave you. I'da *#$# left you too, you monster.”_

 

“ **Don't you _speak to me that way!”_** Joey roared, rearing back, fists up.

 

Mary screamed as she was rushed back to the floor, still trapped in Joey's grip.

 

And suddenly another splatter of ink struck Joey directly in one of his eyes.

 

He let out a guttoral roar, drawing backwards and shaking his head. Bendy's arm – the one he'd just used to throw another chunk of himself at his creator – shot forward, dipping into the ink and finding Mary's arm. He pulled hard, and Mary popped right out – Joey's grip weakened by his lack of focus.

 

“ _Run, Mary!”_ he screamed, struggling to get up and move.

 

Mary's legs were shaky, and she stumbled horribly, but she managed to run the few steps to her wrench, even with Bendy's wrist in her hand. She grabbed the wrench with her free hand, tugged Bendy along with the other. The door was right there. The door was _right there--_

 

And suddenly her hand was holding nothing at all.

 

“ _Bendy!”_ she cried, whirling around.

 

Bendy was lying in a half-melted, broken heap on the ground. His arm lay in front of him...his hand missing. His wrist had melted away in Mary's grip.

 

Bendy chuckled weakly, lifting his head. “Go on, kiddo!” he urged. “Get movin'! The exit's just another floor away!”

 

Joey snarled, finally smearing the ink out of his eyes. Huge black streaks obscured his eyes and snarling mouth, which now seemed to be oozing more black ink between the teeth. **“Be e e en d y y!”** he roared, shaking the hallway.

 

“Move it, kid!” Bendy screamed. “The door's _right! There!”_

 

“Bendy--!”

 

“ _ **BENDYYYY!”**_ Joey screamed, rearing back again and surging like a tidal wave.

 

It seemed to happen in slow-motion. Joey arced overhead, casting a dark shadow over the entire hall. Over Bendy.

 

Behind Mary, a door creaked open. Something cold, wet, and slimy grabbed her wrist and began to pull her backwards and up the stairs. She tried to struggle, but the other was too strong.

 

And Bendy....

 

...smiled.

 

His one remaining eye tearing up, he tilted his head. Smiled weakly, apologetically, as the shadow over him darkened.

 

“ _I love you, Mary,”_ he chuckled feebly.

 

And then Joey crashed onto him, his wide open mouth swallowing him whole.

 

“ _BENDY!”_ Mary screamed.

 

Tears blinded her as she was pulled back through the door. She could hear a loud swallowing sound from Joey, like when one ate root-beer floats.

 

“ _BENDYYYYYYYY!”_

 

The door slammed shut in front of her face.

 


	9. For Bendy

Mary sat there, sobbing quietly in front of the closed door.

 

Beside her, Alice was breathing heavily, an undercurrent of gurgles accompanying the sound.

 

The door pounded a few times, then went silent. Joey didn't come through.

 

The piece of paper on the door, the paper with a funny circle on it, seemed to preventing it.

 

“Bendy...” Mary sobbed as the sounds of Joey leaving filled the room. “Bendy...”

 

Alice looked at the little girl, an expression of sympathy on her face. Her melting, drooping face.

 

“ _I'm sorry...”_ she said, in a voice like bubbling goo. _“I wish...I wish I'd gotten there sooner...”_

 

Mary just continued to cry, curling up into a little ball. They sat there, for what seemed like hours, as Alice placed her hand on Mary's shoulder for comfort.

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Mary, this is Bendy.”_

 

_Four-year-old Mary stared wide-eyed at the cel her uncle held in his hands. Henry laughed as she reached out to tap it, pulling it out of her reach._

 

“ _No, honey, this is expensive. Not for kids to be touching, okay? But listen, I have some tapes...”_

 

_An hour passed. Mary sat in front of the TV, next to her uncle – on baby-sitting duty that night – watching the little cartoon devil try to convince a wolf to skip church._

 

“ _He's a bit naughty,” Henry laughed, ruffling Mary's hair. “But he's really a nice demon. He's good, on the inside.”_

 

“ _Would he like me?”_

 

_It was just an innocent, silly little question. Plenty of children dream of their favorite cartoon characters liking them, being their friends. Mary happened to be one of them._

 

_Her uncle's smile looked sad for a moment. “Aw, kiddo..._

 

“ _Bendy would have **loved** you.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Mary...Mary, my dear...you've got to go.”_

 

“No.” Mary shook her head hard, a few tears slipping free from her lashes. “We were s'posed to get out _together!”_ she sobbed.

 

That had been the plan. She was supposed to get out with Bendy. Then they'd come for Alice. And Boris. And they'd all be okay. They'd all be with Henry again. They'd all be...

 

She kept seeing it, over and over again. Bendy's last, weak smile. The way his own remaining eye crinkled a bit. The tear.

 

“ _I love you, Mary...”_

 

The ink crashing around him.

 

He hadn't even put up a fight.

 

Maybe he knew it would be useless...

 

Mary held her wrench against her chest as if hugging it, hiccuping softly. They were supposed to get out _together._

 

“ _Mary...”_ Alice whispered. _“There is not...much time...”_

 

That got Mary's attention. She lifted her gaze to Alice at last – and her eyes went wide.

 

Alice was barely formed. She was just a torso, and not even _that_ anymore...Most of her body was nothing but a black and white puddle of swirls. She tried to lift her arm, but all that happened was the ink forming her arm broke apart. So instead, she nodded vaguely towards something behind Mary. Her head almost oozed off her shoulders.

 

Mary, heart pounding at the sight of one of her favorite characters like this, slowly turned to look.

 

And then she realized that she was on the same floor as she'd started. They were in front of one of the doors – one that hadn't opened. From where she sat, she could see the door. The hole was still there, but a plank of wood had been torn from the door to the Ink Machine, and had been nailed down as a bridge.

 

“ _It's...not ideal...”_ Alice whispered, a faint undertone of laughter. _“But it was all I had the energy...to do...The board is thick. Your weight will hold, I promise you...”_

 

“I can't--!” Mary began.

 

“ _Mary. Dear heart.”_ Alice looked right into Mary's tear-filled eyes. _“Bendy...wouldn't want you to stay here all alone...”_

 

Mary froze, the mention of Bendy bringing fresh tears to her eyes.

 

Alice smiled. A difficult action. _“You must leave...Bendy would have wanted that...”_

 

Mary sniffled, her throat tight. “But...I was supposed to take him with me...We were s'posed to take all of you!”

 

“ _I know, darling...But things are different now...You've got to go. At least...do it for Bendy...”_

 

Mary looked down at the wrench for a few moments, her throat still tight. Then, blinking hard, she looked back at Alice. “Aren't...aren't you coming...?” she asked, in a small voice. “W-We can get more ink, we can make you all better, we--”

 

But Alice was melting, right before Mary's eyes. _“I'll always be with you, dear...Just as Bendy and Boris will...Now go on, dear....Run home.”_

 

And that was the last thing Mary heard Alice say. The next moment, there was nothing but a puddle in front of her.

 

For the second time in two minutes, Mary sat and cried.

 

Only this time, she was completely alone.

 

* * *

 

 

Her tears were dry now. She'd been completely cried out. The strength had returned to her limbs, and she stood on the board-bridge.

 

Alice was right. The board had held her weight. It hadn't even creaked once.

 

Mary stood in the doorway, letting the night air outside cool her face, make her hair flow softly. Her bike was right where she'd left it. Her wrench was still in her hands – a memento, she thought to herself, to bring back to her uncle.

 

Bendy, Alice, and apparently even Boris...they'd all wanted this.

 

Mary stared blankly outside.

 

It was time to go home.

 

..

 

..

 

..

 

But her feet didn't move.

 

She reached into her pocket--

 

\--and felt something.

 

The Bendy doll.

 

Mary slowly brought it out, staring at it. She squeezed it lightly.

 

_Squee-ee!_

 

She smiled, eyes tearing up again.

 

“ _What do ya need the doll for, kiddo? You got the real thing right here!”_

 

Mary sniffed, and hugged the doll tight, eyes closed.

 

“ _I'm real glad I'm here, too, kiddo...”_

 

Mary's hands gripped the doll tighter.

 

And then her eyes opened.

 

“ _At least...do it for Bendy...”_

 

“Bendy...”

 

“ _I love you, Mary...”_

 

Mary stood up straighter, pocketing the doll. She drew in a deep breath of cool air...

 

...and then turned back around. Walking back into the studio.

 


	10. Help

 

The studio had been empty enough, devoid of life, when Mary had first arrived. Before she freed Bendy from that pipe he was stuck in. When she'd gone in, there was silence, no one but her. So it wasn't like she wasn't used to walking around alone or anything.

 

But this...this was different. This time, there was the constant rhythmic sound of the Ink Machine producing ink. This time, she wasn't alone because she was the only walking around...she was alone because her friends were _gone._ This time, there was a monster roaming the studio, who may or may not know she was still inside.

 

She hoped he didn't. And she definitely hoped he wouldn't find out.

 

Mary slowly walked down the hallway, careful not to walk too fast or heavy, lest the floorboards creak.

 

How was she going to do this...? How was she going to...

 

The Ink Machine.

 

Mary turned around, looking down the hall, towards the still-boarded room where the machine sat. It was still pumping, she could hear it, it was still feeding Joey...If she turned it off, maybe then--

 

Oh. But if she turned it off, she still had a problem. Joey wouldn't be fed more ink, but he would still be moving around. She had to find another way.

 

If Bendy were here...he might know what to do. Mary hugged herself, gripping her wrench tight at the thought of Bendy. He knew this studio, knew it like the back of his hand. If he were here...he could help her. He could figure out a way.

He could--

 

But Bendy wasn't here anymore, she told herself as she walked back towards the door. Bendy wasn't here anymore, she had to think of another--

 

**Thud.**

 

Mary froze, eyes wide and heart pounding. What...what was that?

 

One of the doors, further down the hall, was shaking slightly. On the other side, she could hear a strange sound – like a lot of _schloop_ -ing, if oozing had a sound effect. As she stood in the middle of the empty hallway, frozen in horror, she saw ink seeping out from under the door--

 

_Joey._

 

 _No, but the weird circle--!_ She thought desperately.

 

No. No, the circle had only been on _one_ door – of course there might be other doors leading to this floor, and Joey--

 

_He'd found one. He could come back up here and get her._

 

“ _ **Mary...are you still here?”**_

 

Mary glanced around quickly, heart leaping to her throat. Do something, do something, do something--!

 

Her eyes landed on the hole in front of the exit.

 

The doorknob slowly turned...

 

Mary bolted over to the hole, crouching down at the edge. She quickly glanced down to see just how far down it went, just how much distance she could put between them--

 

\--and threw her wrench down.

 

After a tension-filled second, she heard it clatter, useless to her now, on the floor below.

 

The doorknob stopped turning.

 

“ **Mary!”** Joey shouted. A second later, there was a rushing, slippery sound, as the monstrous Joey-Bendy shot away, heading downstairs.

 

Mary heaved a heavy sigh of relief, shoulders slumping. She'd gotten Joey away. She'd put distance between them. She'd bought herself some time.

 

…and she'd lost her only weapon.

 

She had to make this quick.

 

Knees shaking from the fright of what had just happened, Mary slowly stood up and turned around. Okay, think, think, she had to think of something fast, she had to _think..._

 

And a Bendy cut-out greeted her, standing before her eyes as if it had always been there.

 

Mary clapped her hands over her mouth to keep herself from screaming and blowing her cover. When...when did--!?

 

….wait....

 

“You're...you're alive, aren't you?” Mary whispered, slowly lowering her hands.

 

It said nothing, simply smiling back at her.

 

Mary gulped audibly, gripping the front of her pinafore to hide the way her hands shook. “You...you were following Bendy and me when we were getting the things. F-For the Ink Machine. And you keep popping up when I'm not looking and...”

 

Her eyes went wide.

 

_**CLANG** _

_..._

_A wrench was on the floor just outside, at the feet of a cardboard cutout._

 

“And one of you dropped the wrench for me...and another one pushed me away from the ink wave!”

 

_Something thin, but hard and heavy, smacked into her shoulder. It toppled from above, from one of the narrow gaps between storyboard-wall and ceiling. The momentum from it knocked the child and toon into one of the tiny cubicles, where a desk sat among the flood of papers._

 

“...are...are you the other workers?” she whispered. “Are you a worker?”

 

The cut-out said nothing, of course. It didn't even move.

 

Yet...somehow, Mary felt like those painted-on eyes were looking at her. Really _looking._ Regarding her.

 

“...can you help me?” she whispered, feeling her throat grow tighter.

 

The cut-out moved.

 

It wobbled forward, ever-so-slightly, towards Mary. It took Mary a few seconds to realize that it wasn't motioning at _her,_ but rather... At the door.

 

 _Get out,_ it was saying.

 

She shook her head. “I can't...” she whispered. “Please, _please,_ I can't!”

 

It wobbled again, more forcefully this time. When Mary didn't move, it wobbled even _harder,_ bumping its flat face against her shoulder.

 

_Get out!_

 

“ _I can't, please!”_ Mary cried as loud as she dared.

 

The cut-out stopped moving.

 

“My friends...m-my friends are all gone and...and I can't leave the machine on. I can't let Mr Joey get away with this!”

 

It didn't move. It just stared.

 

Mary swallowed again, blinking back the tears that had sprung to her eyes. “Bendy...Mr Joey ate Bendy...a-and Alice died, and...and Boris is dead too...” She assumed he was, at the least...He hadn't moved from his slab when they turned the Ink Machine on.

 

That _had_ to have been Joey...

 

“I can't...I can't let Mr Joey get away with it...H-He killed my friends, I can't...I can't just _leave,_ I have to do something!” she cried.

 

The cut-out still stared, silent as ever.

 

Mary sniffled, wiping her eyes on her sleeve before looking into the cut-out's own painted eyes. _“Please,”_ she whispered again. “I need your _help...”_

 

There was a moment of silence as the cut-out seemed to stare at her.

 

And then it suddenly...well, it was as if someone had reached out and grabbed it. The cut-out suddenly shot backwards, sliding down the hall without turning once. Staring at her the whole time. It glided back until it reached a corner, paused for just a moment, then turned sharply and shot back around the corner.

 

“ _Wait!”_ Mary whisper-shouted, racing after it with her hand outstretched. “Wait for me!”

 

She ran as fast as she could, making as little noise as possible, skidding slightly as she slid round the corner. She looked up as she righted herself, seeing the cut-out standing as it waiting for her before it shot back again.

 

_Follow me. Follow me._

 

“Are you showing me something?!” Mary called out as she ran after it. “Is there someone who can help us? Where are we going?!”

 

Of course the cut-out said nothing. But it didn't move anymore either.

 

Mary finally caught up, panting slightly, as the cut-out stood in the doorway to one of the rooms. A room she had gone into when she'd first arrived. The cut-out stared lifelessly at her for a few seconds before sliding off to the side and turning, as if inviting her in.

 

Mary stared. “This...this is Uncle Henry's room,” she whispered. Yes, that was his desk, his chair, this was the room she'd found when she first came in...Why did it lead her down _here?_

 

She glanced at the cut-out. It didn't provide any answers. She looked back into the room, gulped, and slowly made her way inside.

 

It had led her down here...there had to be something of use...but what? Mary glanced around the room, not seeing anything immediately useful. Shelves, bacon soup, paper, old pens, old pencils...The desk and chair...

 

It was...interesting, she realized. A lot of the room looked like it hadn't been touched.

 

“ _Then things started goin' not-so-good. Joey'd come into his office a lot. He'd send me out when that happened, and they'd argue. About what direction the show should take, about introducin' or droppin' a character, about...about money, and productivity... the fights got worse after the Ink Machine started bein' built. Joey got angrier and angrier. Henry got more an' more defensive. One day Joey told Henry he worked for him, and Joey signed the checks, and Joey controlled everything. Henry didn't have any liberties, he said. Henry packed up and quit, that same day.”_

 

“The fights...” Mary whispered to herself, eyes slowly widening. “Joey...Joey an' my uncle fought so much, he...he never wanted to come in here again. He was still mad...”

 

And if he was still mad...if he'd _never_ come into this room again – or at the very least, if he'd never touched Uncle Henry's desk, then maybe--

 

Mary's fingertips slid around the desk until she found a notch. A drawer. She slowly slid it open, holding her breath...

...and releasing it as a small, giddy laugh when she saw what was inside. “ _Yes,”_ she whispered. “Oh, _thank_ you, Uncle Henry!” She reached out and carefully began moving the items into her pockets, careful as possible. “And thank you, too, Mr--!” she began, turning around.

 

But the cut-out was gone.

 

“...thank you all the same,” Mary added with a tiny smile. She grabbed one more thing, shut the drawer, and ran out of the room.

 

Down the hall.

 

Not caring if her shoes made the floorboards squeak this time.

 

It would all be okay.

 

It would all be okay.

 

She told herself this as she jogged down to the boarded-up room with the sign INK MACHINE above the door. She told herself this as she stopped in front of the boards, breathing heavily before gulping.

 

As she paused to look behind her.

 

And then as she dropped to her hands and knees, crawling through the meager hole in the boards, reaching the monstrous machine.

 


	11. Mary and The Ink Machine

 

Mary slowly lifted her head and rose to her feet as she passed through the hole in the boards. And then she just stood there.

 

A little girl, only nine years old, alone in this cramped, boarded-up room.

 

With a monstrous, abominable machine.

 

The room looked a lot worse than it had the last time she – and Bendy – were here. The walls were covered in dripping, thick ink that glooped together like molasses. The floor was splattered with more of the same, the splattered shapes looking almost like people had been smeared up against the wood. She tried not to think about _that_ detail too much...

 

The room had never been very bright to begin with, but now it was even darker than ever. The black ink not only coated the walls, but blocked out where light would shine. She was standing in a square, slimy cave.

 

The pipes were rattling with the force of the ink that was being shoved through them, too fast and too hard and too much at once. She could hear the screws threatening to fly off, the piping threatening to burst.

 

She could hear the machine whirring and grinding wetly, see the occasional spurt of ink shooting between the metal plates that made it. There was too much ink.

 

Too much for the machine to hold for too long.

 

But none of it mattered to Joey, did it? He didn't care.

 

Whatever his original intentions were, Mary realized, he no longer cared about them. Not to the same extent he used to.

 

He may still want to turn her uncle, or herself, into a cartoon like he had tried to do for himself. But he would not stop at being Bendy. He would not be satisfied; not anymore.

 

All he wanted now was ink. To have _more and more and more._ That was _all_ he cared about now.

 

She wondered what would happen to Uncle Henry or herself if Joey did turn them into cartoons.

 

He would likely devour them. Just like he'd devoured--

 

\--her hands gripped the bottles in her pockets tightly.

 

\--like he'd devoured Bendy.

 

She couldn't be afraid anymore. She had to do this.

 

She'd bought herself a small window of time, she had to be quick.

 

Mary approached the machine, feeling the floor vibrating beneath her feet from the force of the machine's movements. The outside of the machine was wet and sticky when she touched it to feel where it could open up. It almost made her recoil, but she couldn't be squeamish now.

 

Not now.

 

The machine gave a loud, wet cough, spraying more ink into the air. Mary saw a metal plate bounce up – that was it! She steeled herself, gripping the side of the machine as best she could, and tried to climb up.

 

There were no footholds or handholds. Despite looking like a bunch of metal sheets overlapping each other, the machine's surface was surprisingly smooth – even more than ever with all that ink on it.

 

Mary's feet slipped from beneath her, and she slid right back down the side of the machine, smearing ink on her front and hands. She backed up a bit and ran at the machine, jumping once she got close.

 

She slid back down.

 

She backed up even further.

 

The walls were shaking. She didn't notice.

 

 _For Bendy,_ she thought, taking a deep breath.

 

She ran forward.

 

And jumped up.

 

It was like climbing a giant ice cube. Slippery, smooth, impossible to get a good grip on. Mary's jump had put her halfway up the side of the machine, and once her hands touched it they began scrabbling for something to grab onto. Once the toe of her shoes touched the sides, she began pumping her legs like she was trying to run up it. For a second, nothing happened – she just ran and flailed in place, ridiculous as she sent globs of ink flying from the force of her movements.

 

And then she moved upwards.

 

Up the rounded side of the shaking, sputtering machine. Up nearer the top, where that metal door had jumped.

 

She grabbed the handle of the door tight, using it as leverage to pull herself up. More ink slid under her, the machine threatened to shake her off. The walls creaked loudly, the ceiling....

 

...the ceiling curved down slightly, ink dripping from it like rain.

 

She did not notice the first part, wiping her inky hands on the front of her pinafore.

 

“Okay...” she gasped from exertion, reaching into her pockets with one hand, and reaching the door's handle with the other. “Okay...”

 

This would be over soon.

 

She just...

 

In the pipes, something whispered _No...._

 

...had to...

 

\--the pipes began to crack--

 

...open the door.

 

With a loud, echoing squeak, the metal door was lifted open, making a loud _BANG_ as it hit the side of the machine.

 

And then the pipes in the room exploded.

 

Mary screamed, raising her arms to shield her face as glass showered around her, ink spraying out like a typhoon.

 

“ **MARY!”**

 

A wall of ink slammed against her, shoving and lifting her away from the machine. _“NO!”_ she screamed, trying to lunge forward, trying to get to the door. It did no good – the ink formed around her, a tight, unforgiving fist bringing her up to a familiar, enormous face.

 

Ink continued raining in sheets through the room, splattering over everything, filling Mary's nostrils with its suffocating stench. The ink machine pumped loudly, feeding more ink into Joey as he stared down at her.

 

But all that paled in comparison to the way he looked now.

 

Before, he had simply been a giant, malformed Bendy. Larger eyes, a much larger body, a larger face...

 

Now...

 

His body filled the room, and not just because he was flooding it. From every slough of ink on the walls, every stain on the floor, every puddle remaining in the shattered pipes and around the base of the machine, stretched a _looong_ glob of ink that writhed and sprawled over everything like worms. All converging in the middle to create a mountainous ink creature that couldn't even keep himself fully stable, ink bubbling and popping on his 'skin' and melting down his head and back. His eyes were no longer flat, but bulbous and slightly bulging out from his face, the sclerae blackened in the bottom half. Mary was so close to his face that she could tell it wasn't simply because of coloring, but because his eyes were stretched so thin they were nearly transparent, and she could see flood of ink sloshing around inside. Tiny pinprick pupils stared at her with the intensity of the sun, and his toothy grin stretched wider past his face. Ink dribbled and burst between his clenched teeth – where they met in the middle and between the sides of each tooth – to roll down his chin and splatter against the floor.

 

Mary was torn between screaming and throwing up.

 

“ _ **Ma-ry...You bad, stupid, STUPID little girl...”**_ Joey rumbled, his deep voice sounding like a garbage disposal full of thick mud. **_“WHAT...did you think...you were doing...?”_**

 

Mary didn't say anything, leaning back in his grip and trying not to cry in fear. Her hands twisted around in the ink, trying to find her pockets.

 

Joey lowered his head, sending more ink to the floor. His shoulders began shaking, rolling as he laughed deep in his gut. **“Climbing the Machine....Oh, Mary, Mary,** _ **Mary.....”**_

 

He looked up.

 

His grin went beyond his face, stretching the inky flesh impossibly.

 

“ **If you wanted to be a toon so badly.......”**

 

The ink squirmed around Mary, forcibly turning her around in Joey's fist so she faced the machine. The door on the top was still open...

 

“ _ **You needed to only ASK...”**_

 

“ _NO!”_ Mary screamed as Joey shoved her forward, towards the open door.

 

She was falling – no, she was still being shoved down, the ink was a wall behind her and surging past her at once. She shot her hand out, desperately reaching for the handle – but wait, no, the handle was on the other side of the door, facing the machine, facing away from her, there was nothing--

 

\--her hand found the side of the opening instead, she grabbed tight as she could and fought against the pressure of the ink shoving her forward, threatening to push her in.

 

It only lasted a second before Joey snarled wetly at her, grabbing her by the back of her pinafore and shoving her forward again. **“** _ **You little** **brat,** **get! In! There!”**_

 

Mary held on, gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut as she felt her head and shoulders slipping through the door. She knelt on top of the machine still, but how long--?

 

“ **Don't you want to be like Sammy and I? Don't you want to be _better?! Perfect?!”_**

 

Her legs slipped forward, she screamed as the top half of her body was shoved through the door. She was right above the ink filling the machine – it sprayed into her hair and on her ribbon as something inside the machine grinded and churned like a blender.

 

“ _ **You could be a little Toon Mary, would you like that? Or you could be another Bendy!”**_

 

_Bendy....._

 

“ _ **But you need to go into the Machine, Mary....you can be reborn like Sammy and I! You can bring your uncle to us, we can be TOGETHER AGAIN. Wouldn't you like that?!”**_

 

_Bendy....Uncle Henry, Boris, Alice, everyone...._

 

“ _ **Get. In. The. Machine! MARY!”**_ Joey screeched.

 

Mary reached back with one shaking, ink-covered hand, and found her pockets.

 

“ _ **MARY--!”**_ Joey roared, shoving her forward again.

 

Mary slid forward, just about to tumble through the door and land in the ink--

 

\--and six glass bottles tumbled out from her hand and her pocket.

 

_Plip! Sploosh! Gloop!_

 

….

..

…

..

…

 

The sounds of crunching glass filled the room as the machine ground up the bottles, and a new smell joined the inky one.

 

Joey froze, realizing in a split-second what was happening. **_“No.”_**

 

The ink released its grip on Mary; she shoved herself back away from the hole and held onto the machine's top as tight as she could.

 

And then Joey began screaming.

 

It was a horrible sound, impossible to describe and nearly-impossible for her to bear listening to. He shrieked in the worst agony as he was devoured alive from the inside out, screaming how it was _**burning, Mary, burning!**_ How _could she_ _ **do**_ _this to him, how could do_ _ **do this?!**_ Mary looked up, watching in wide-eyed horror as Joey lunged for her but failed halfway, his appendages dissolving and boiling into nothingness, his mouth wide open in a terrified scream--

 

\--before the bottom half of his jaw oozed and melted away to splatter onto the floor, his screaming becoming more frenzied and terrified. His screams of her name, pleas for her to stop this, save him, the _**acetone, Mary, the acetone, get it out of the machine, it was EATING HIM**_ were now only half-decipherable, being lost in the bubbling and hissing.

 

The machine slowly stopped churning, stopped pumping as the ink inside it was devoured, but it did nothing to save Joey. With a high-pitched, agonized scream that made Mary's ears ring, he seemed to crumple-splash in on himself at last....

 

...and then there was nothing but a large stain of ink on the floor, accompanied by a few pieces of ink-covered bone.

 

Shaking and breathing hard, Mary slid down from the machine. She edged nervously around the perimeter of the stain, as if she expected Joey to crawl back out, and then bolted down the hall to shut the machine off for good.

 

* * *

 

 

A short time later, the door to the music department opened.

 

Mary, covered in ink, still frightened, and thoroughly-exhausted but safe, walked between the chairs where the orchestra was to sit. She hadn't been able to enjoy this room, and she wasn't here to enjoy it now.

The entire walk down here, she kept expecting more ink monsters to appear. Or Joey to come back. Or a cardboard cut-out to greet her.

 

But there was nothing. Not even the cut-outs.

 

Mary wasn't sure if that was entirely good or not. But it suited her fine. She was only looking for--

 

Her eyes landed on a familiar bow-tie. Lying atop a glob of half-solid ink next to the fiddle.

 

“Bendy?” Mary whispered, slowly approaching it.

 

It didn't move. But that was Bendy's bow-tie.

 

But it did not move.

 

Mary dropped to her knees, blinking back tears as she looked at the ink. “I guess...I guess Joey came through here after all, huh?” she asked. “I don't know if...i-if he left you behind or if he was just that big but-- But, but Bendy! Joey's gone now! He's gone – it's just like you said, the acetone makes ink go away! It thinned him out, just like it did in the storyboard section! I just needed more bottles, I just...” Her tentatively-happy expression faded into a forlorn one.

 

“I just...I'm glad I...I did that much at least....”

 

Silence reigned for a few moments.

 

Mary sniffled wetly, wiping her tears on her ink-stained sleeve. “I'm sorry, Bendy,” she whispered. “I...I'm sorry we didn't leave fast enough...I'm sorry I didn't get you out sooner...

I'm glad...'m glad I met you. I'm glad I was able to...to get you out of the pipe. But everything else, I'm...I'm sorry, Bendy. _I'm so...so sorry....”_ she whispered, her words dissolving into soft sobs.

 

Uncle Henry had been right...Bendy had loved her.

 

And she...

 

“I...I brought...I b-brought something for you...” she added, reaching into her pockets. She pulled out two bottles of ink. “I g-got them from Uncle Henry's desk....I don't know any of the magic that Joey did. Maybe nobody _should_ know it. But....but earlier you said that if you only had a full bottle of ink, then it'd be enough, you'd be okay, and...

Maybe...Maybe it'll help you?”

 

She carefully unscrewed the lid of the first jar and set it aside. Then she opened the second. And then she took one in each hand, and carefully poured them over the glob of ink.

 

The wet ink coated the globbier bit, but did nothing else.

 

Nothing.

 

Mary's hopes hadn't even risen much at all, but they were still dashed.

 

“...I should go home,” Mary whispered at last. “You only wanted to get me home, and...it'd be mean to not go home now...” She slowly stood up, stumbling slightly as she backed away from the bit of ink. “I'll tell Uncle Henry about you. A-And Alice and Boris... I'm sorry you couldn't come back with me...”

 

And with that said, she turned around, and shuffled for the door.

 

…

..

…

…

…

 

_schloop._

 

Mary froze, her hand on the knob.

 

_Bloop._

 

She slowly turned around, heart hammering in her chest. Was Joey...?

 

The glob of ink shuddered as it sucked the bow-tie into itself. Then a bit of ink stretched out from itself, a hand formed at the end as it smacked against the floor...

...something pulled itself both _from_ the ink and reformed itself.

 

And Bendy lifted his head and looked up at her. _“Mary?”_

 

“ _Bendy?”_

 

Bendy smiled shakily, pushing himself up to his feet. “....hey, kiddo,” he said hoarsely.

 

“ _BENDY!”_

 

Mary bolted back across the room, meeting Bendy in the middle as he leaped up into her arms. She hugged him tight, briefly spinning around before falling back to her knees. Both of them laughing, crying at the same time, Mary hugging Bendy tight, Bendy laugh-crying “You did it, Mary! You did it, you got rid o' Joey!”

 

“I did!” Mary laughed through her tears. “B-But you're back, Bendy, you're--!” She hiccuped and hugged him tighter, sniffling wetly. “I love you, Bendy...”

 

Bendy sniffled as well. “I love you, too, kiddo.... _let's all go home, 'kay?”_

 


	12. Bye

The studio seemed so much brighter as they ran through the hallways, the sound of their loud footfalls echoing around them. Though there weren't any windows, it was like the sun was filtering through the walls themselves, lighting everything up. Even the ink stains on the floor were more faded, Bendy could even swear he could see little dust mites floating lazily in some sunny patches.

 

But of course it couldn't be. It was just a reflection of their happier, lighter hearts.

 

“Didja get em all?” Bendy asked excitedly.

 

“Yeah yeah!” Mary cheered back, her arms loaded with black bottles.

 

“Good! C'mon, c'mon, this way!”

 

He led her further down into the studio, nearer to the machinery. This would probably be the right room...

 

* * *

 

 

Something bubbled and swelled, and a long, thin arm emerged from a puddle of ink.

 

Large, toonish eyes blinked slowly as they landed on the small girl and the even smaller cartoon. “What...?”

 

* * *

 

 

Minutes later, the same process repeated.

 

Minutes later, a second toon got the wind knocked out of them by a hug so forceful it nearly knocked them down.

 

* * *

 

 

Mary kicked the kickstand back into its inactive position. She gripped the handlebars tight, her friends behind her. Walking was their only option – there was no way they'd all fit in her bike, and besides, she doubted she could pedal her whole way back. Not after the adventure she'd had.

 

“Ya ready, Mary?” asked the tallest one.

 

Mary smiled up at him, then glanced over at the studio. It was still boarded-up at the windows, the door closed once more. It looked...just as innocent as ever. No different from when she'd first arrived.

 

But with the Ink Machine off, nothing could happen. Even _if_ someone dared to go inside and turn it back on...Joey was gone. All that would happen was some ink would sputter out.

 

She recalled the bones on the floor, after the acetone had mixed with the ink. For as much as he'd wanted to become a toon, he was still a human on the inside. Very deep down. He could never get rid of that part of himself.

 

So...none of the ink in the world would be able to bring him back.

 

She wondered what his whole story was. What must have drove him to do such things. Whether Uncle Henry had known about his plan, how much he'd known if he did...

 

...but those were stories out of her reach. They weren't her tales to be told.

 

It was over and done.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, 'm ready.”

 

“Then let's go!” cheered Bendy, sitting in the little basket at the front of the bike. He laughed – a cute little whistling sound – and tilted his head back to smile at the others. “Henry's gonna be sooooo surprised!”

 

“Pleasantly surprised, I hope!” Alice spoke up.

 

“You bet he will!” Mary said with a grin. “Okay, let's go!”

 

As they walked, Mary felt compelled to look at the studio building one last time. Just to watch it shrink in the distance.

 

A group of cardboard Bendy's stared back at her, from a window up top. The only window not boarded-up.

 

Mary stopped for a second, staring back.

 

The cut-outs watched them for a few moments, nothing malicious about their smiles. In fact, it almost seemed as if they were...

 

Mary's expression softened into a sad smile, her brows lowering slightly. “Bye...” she whispered up at them.

 

There was a brief pause. The cut-outs wiggled slightly as if they were waving goodbye in their own way. And then they fell back, leaving the window empty.

 

* * *

 

 

 _ **RIIIIIIIIIIIIII--**_ *clik*

 

Henry groaned and sat up in bed. His hands rubbed over his face, scrubbing away the grit from his eyes. Six AM – right on schedule.

 

Mary wouldn't be woken up for another two hours or so. But he had to keep to his schedule. And since he was up, he may as well get a head start on her breakfast – after his own coffee, of course.

 

With a yawn, he padded into the kitchen to start the coffeepot. The early morning light filtered through the curtains to illuminate little rectangles on the floor, the roads outside were quiet and tranquil...Early mornings were the best times. When all was as it should be; serene.

 

While the coffee brewed, he walked past the guest room he had set up for Mary--

 

\--and stopped.

 

Her door was open, her bedsheets tossed aside.

 

...perhaps she was in the bathroom?

 

He looked down the hall. The bathroom door was wide open. She wasn't there.

 

“Mary?”

 

He went to the garage on an instinct.

 

Her bike was gone.

 

“Mary!”

 

Henry quickly threw a robe over his pajamas, shoved his feet into his shoes, and ran out the front door. His heart pounded a mile a second in his chest, a cold sweat already breaking out.

 

And then he stopped, and his heartrate slowly began to return to normal.

 

Down the street, he could make out a familiar red shape, walking her bike down to meet him. _Mary._

 

And beside her...

 

and in the basket...

 

He could scarcely believe it.

 

Bendy sat in the basket at the front of her bike, his little feet sticking over the top, his head tilted back to watch the sunrise gently burn away the pink and golden-orange clouds. Beside Mary was Boris, walking tall and confident, his arms swinging casually like he remembered. Even from this distance, he could hear Boris whistling a familiar tune. On the other side of the bike walked Alice, her hands clasped demurely in front of herself as she looked around the street, enjoying the sight of the trees, the singing birds, the flowers...

 

They were all walking towards him. All healthy and cheerful as ever. Mary had numerous ink stains on her pinafore and shirt, but she had a broad smile on her face as they came nearer. She noticed him staring and grinned, lifting one arm to wave. “Hi, Uncle Henryyyyy!” she called out.

 

“Henry!” Bendy shouted, tearing his gaze away from the sky and towards Henry.

 

“Henryyy!” Boris and Alice called out together.

 

Henry stood mutely, weakly lifting a hand in greeting.

 

Mary began jogging her bike towards him, the cartoons chasing after her to keep up. Once she was close enough, Bendy launched himself out of the basket to collide with Henry's chest. The man's arms rose on instinct and once-forgotten reflex to embrace his creation and friend. “Bendy?” he whispered. “Boris – Alice? Mary, where did – what happened to your--” His sputtering came to an abrupt stop as the other toons ran over and locked him in a group bear hug, Mary dropping her bike and latching onto his legs.

 

It was Bendy who spoke first.

 

“Henry,” he said, pulling back and looking at him with big, shining eyes. “We got _such_ a good story to tell ya!”

 


End file.
